Years are worn
The breath of time is spinning faster
Yet weaker in stature
Reeling on my fear is sewn
But not with threads of a new moral
Staggering spokes of decline
To bring to halt or continue to fault?!
An open chest (is) plundered
In mind we numb and begin revolving
Spinning straw into old, to stow way and fester mold
Adding layers, stripping years
My ride will end in tears
There is no time to feel patient
No patience to feel time

INVIA LE CORREZIONI