Lines Out of Time

One wants to write more.

Often though, time does not allow it. To an extent, time ought to be defied. Others days it has to be placated, at least briefly. Today is one of those days.

Therefore, a compromise. Here’s a little rag verse, perhaps foreshadowing an upcoming Post of Substance.


Tell Me

Don’t tell me the truth, tell me a lie;
don’t tell me that it’s cold outside,
don’t tell me that I’m getting old,
those things are hearsay, that I know.
Don’t tell me some things never change,
don’t tell me the sun sets every day,
don't tell me some loves go unclaimed;
don’t tell me the truth, tell me a lie
‘cause I’d prefer to never have to die.