End of the Line

The clock ticks, the tongue clicks,

and I keep tryin’ to catch up.

We go out to talk and can’t ever seem

to catch up to all the time that’s gone by.

We just listen to the sink dripping,

feeling like we’re running ourselves dry.

We’re running ourselves out

of ideas, out of love, out of time,

and we see that it’s coming, dying fast,

riding hard right up to the end of the line.

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