the sands of time are running out and I... don't wish to see you because I can't tell Which way's hell Going with, or against you which way the sands flow I don't know If time is running out or dead still trapped like you and I in a sea of love and pain carried in by old wounds every caress grinding grit into our damaged souls unwittingly drowning in sufficating sands what will it be? the end of you? or me? Worse, is this the end of WE?
