Losing Time Lyrics

By the day, where you going?

By the week, where you going?

By the year, where you going?

By the minute, by the minute, oh

By the minute, by the minute, oh

By the minute, by the minute

By the day, where you going?

By the week, where you going?

By the year, where you going?

By the minute, by the minute, oh

By the minute, by the minute, oh

By the minute, by the minute

Bull-headed, let loose in the temple, untethered

Ceramic nightmare, I forget it

I saddle up to ride

We'll pick up the pieces to find

Where they fall more beautiful than anything I've made

Listen to the words now that I say

Sound written by a timpani

Heavy handed

So demanding

That you live in my head just to get it

With the tide rising with every cheap glass of wine that I'm biding my time with

See, I've never lost time, just a liberated pocket full of cats eyes

Traded for a notebook, to this day still dancing out of guidelines

I'm better suited, nothing proven

Except bad at making money, better at losing

Aloof goofin' by the posts that gods keep moving

But no Lord of mine, my world sanitized

Don't long for the past, ego loves the way I write

"Cut cook at the feet" a good first line

A new chapter

Bloody stumps on the rungs

reminded us that the little things matter

By the day, where you going?

By the week, where you going?

By the year, where you going?

By the minute, by the minute, oh

By the minute, by the minute, oh

By the minute, by the minute

By the day, where you going?

By the week, where you going?

By the year, where you going?

By the minute, by the minute, oh

By the minute, by the minute, oh

By the minute, by the minute

Shit could change in a minute

Shit could change in a minute

Shit could change in a minute

Shit could change in a minute

Shit could change in a minute

Shit could change in a minute

Precious things are kindling in the making

Poets make good arsons

Tired of hearing one voice ringing

Drowning out the crowds passing

So I'll drain my account to last crumbs and pennies

I don't sell labour; I build up cities

I don't swell when I'm ill; art gets gritty

I bliss out more viscously

This is "blink and you miss it"

That sense of anticipation still kicking

That feeling of what's brittle will break

That feeling something's different of late

Knuckles rap on doors before the foot drops

Unamused by that fit you sport

Grit our teeth and get with it

Shit could change in a minute

By the day, where you going?

By the week, where you going?

By the year, where you going?

By the minute, by the minute, oh

By the minute, by the minute, oh

By the minute, by the minute

By the day, where you going?

By the week, where you going?

By the year, where you going?

By the minute, by the minute, oh

By the minute, by the minute, oh

By the minute, by the minute