We don't get any younger,
but the best of us are fools;
living by our wits
and bending all the rules.
We each know what it takes
but not always what we've got;
not always when to act;
not always when to stop.
So sally forth, and rush in
where angels fear to tread,
and celebrate each heartbeat,
'cause one day you'll be dead.
A secret. A sharing. A whisper in the night.
A moment. A heartbeat. I held you tight.
A grip. A grasp. A slip. A gasp.
A time. A chance. One whirling dance.
A flicker-book of images;
staccato memory.
You'll move on, forget me;
a one-man tragedy.
And if it's my voice that wakes you
but I spoke only in your dream,
then know that I hear you too;
even though I'm a lifetime
and three billion heartbeats from you.