My hearts got a mind of it's own
Won't listen to a word I say
Doesn't it know that I get hurt too
When it acts that way
Cos When it breaks I break
Stop, slow down, take a second
Before you rush right in
It's gonna be my tears you cry
These wings are broken
Can I still fly?
Asked, so sadly,
Who am I?
The future is the present. The last minute that went meaninglessly ticking by on the pendolum of the clock is the past, which was once the future. The next minute awaiting its time will one day be the present, and far too soon, the past.