Days get shorter as we're nearer the end
We meant no harm but we can't pretend
Like we didn't see it coming a mile away
We ignored the dark for the sake of the day
I'm a planner, the compulsive sort
I like structure and function and being important
I react poorly to change of plans
I fall apart when things are out of my hands
Why do I pay with time?
The days are just a grind
I'm a dweller; hell, I'm a worrywort
I like art and music, and I'm kinda short
I'm agender and queer and the stick in the mud
Every day is a dud
Why do I pay with time?
The days are just a grind
I'm a hopeless obsessive who's benefit is doubt
Compulsive creator without the clout
A thousand times a day reliving a dream
That never really happened and didn't mean a thing
Days get shorter and the nights get long
You thought it was the dark that done me wrong
But the cold, cold empty don't bother me
As much as the thought of ceasing to be
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