• We're using up time we don't have on our hands.
    Sometimes I want to relinquish my stand.
    Something inside me screams, "Just run away,"
    but I can't deny that i want you to stay.
    Deep in my instinct, the urge is to run,
    but I'm loath to leave my haven of sun.
    Is that, in the distance, the rolling of thunder?
    Can't seem to leave what would pull me back under.
    If I jump, will you catch me? Or just let me fall?
    My logic keeps saying I answer no call.
    Maybe we're both placing pain over reason.
    But quickly the time dissolves season to season.
    There's pressure to choose what I can't yet decide.
    Sweet reckless comfort, no pain to hide.
    How do we know when the reckless is right?
    Have we yet found the path guided by light?
    I know not the danger this laughter may pose.
    Where are the thorns on this unforseen rose?