Time

Time is what killed the Sanskrit Time is what makes any moon a crescent Time is what's making life a line In a wait for the answers Time is a bridge with an end at mist Time's a ventriloquist Getting us on an upright road As we fool dare to do its job You, Cuban bossa nova Or a singalong Or a Beltheine night bound heathen law Or the lord at heaven In his earthly form You will take me home Time is a postman who brings the dues Time has no time though to teach the stupid So we painfully love to lose (Time) Running wild in between abuses Time's a door we descend into To get lost with the music... You, Cuban bossa nova Or a singalong Or a Beltheine night bound heathen law Or the lord at heaven In his earthly form You will take me home