change

and then the change

seeping in
sounds so strange
when u’re peeping in
ur footsteps are friendly but i’m not used to company
and so now i don’t change
we change.
but i’m just one of the many hands
that will pull you through
i have an internal clock
and when the cuckoo sings its tune
i’ll be just one of the many hands that once pulled you through
i have to drift away.
i’m the bird that doesn’t reside in the clock,
i’m the water that refuses to solidify,
always we’ll share parts of our minds or spirits
and with this i say ‘goodbye’.
 
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