Looking at the hands of the time we've been given If this is all we got and we gotta start thinking If every second counts on a clock that's ticking Gotta live like we're dying...
What is a poet? An unhappy person who hides deep anguish in his heart, but whose lips are so formed that when the sigh and cry pass through them, it sounds like lovely music. — Søren Kierkegaard, Philosopher & Theologian
