| «Time …»
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| People wait for it others hate all of it and many waste all of it
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| Time. |
| I need to know, «what is it»
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| And when it’s yours what will you do?
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| «Time …»
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| Don’t lose track of it
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| Let it pass you, kid
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| Or you’ll find out what’s after it
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| «Time.» |
| I need to know «what is it»
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| Cause mine might be long overdue
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| Spare a minute of your time to sit and listen to a rhyme
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| About decisions in your life that you choose
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| There’s this kid, they call him Byron and he misplaces his lighter
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| And his bills are past due so he’s screwed
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| No ambition left to find, he sleeps until it’s five
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| Feeds his body mad brew and fast food
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| Gets back too late to say hi to dad, so one day father gets mad
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| And tells him what to do, he’s gotta move
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| Now he’s confused, walking down the street without any shoes
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| And he’s starting to look more skinny too
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| What more can he do?
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| He’s clueless, begging quarters for food
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| But he’s content cause that’s all he’s gotta do, what a fool
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| He should have kept better track of minutes and dollars he used
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| Then he could probably do whatever he wanted to
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| But he acts like he’s trapped right where he is and he can’t fight
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| Destined to live a bad life, but do you believe that?
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| Cause many don’t, including his dad
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| Who finds him in the back of a restaurant rooting through trash
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| He scoops him up fast and shoots him back to the pad for brunch
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| Prefaces his lesson with, «I'll only tell you once
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| What I’m gonna tell you now. |
| Don’t no one around
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| Give a fuck about your luck they just don’t want you in their town
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| Time waits for no man.» |
| Byron replied then
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| «That might be true but every man woman and child waits for-»
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| Second story’s about an attorney who’s on a journey
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| To feed his wife and child that was born prematurely
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| Tis the season to worry like always
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| For no reason cause everything due is all paid
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| But can’t let a song play without some interjection
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| Becoming restless when they’re running late and had nothing for breakfast
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| An hour late to meet the parents the mother could no longer remain calm
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| But just who do you place the blame on?
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| The same song reloops and they never stop and listen
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| Feeling like each day doesn’t have enough hours in it
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| But at any given they’re dealing with million dollar digits
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| If that’s how I was living do you think I would complain? |
| No
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| But back to the show with me
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| A rough day at court quickly turned to getting more tipsy than Nicole Richie
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| Rolling swiftly after boozing and cruising on purpose
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| Ended with the Sheriff asking «Do you have proof of insurance?»
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| The answer was yes, but then he breathed a flammable breath
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| And the officer saw his new passenger sweat …
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| «What happens next?» |
| Wait. |
| Look at his license. |
| His name is Byron
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| Looks like he took some advice and didn’t like it
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| And would almost rather be back with no food on the street
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| Now look and see cause Byron lives in both you and me
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| Trusted judges among us, even brothers who lie
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| To survive look inside for the right balance, and you might manage |