Memoirs of a Life Unlived

It's always sometime somewhere (give or take a quarter hour); the sun's always there bold as brass, or hiding; we're always the same until we change, telling the truth or lying. Everything just keeps going till it stops.

And so they sat waiting for sun (and for the sun that slides around the sun) in the crouched dark. Starved of the glow, hands and knees to that heavy door they know leads out to light. All we ever need's right here proclaims the sage. If opened it would never spray diamonds. All we ever need's right there in here.