The Small Things Forgotten

This is going once And on and on again And then complain What is old enough To circulate again Can't talk fast enough Through boxes full of other people's lives All are going once They're mine But how would I know Some are things that we need I just follow This is going once Off the map And off the books in time Can't go soon enough A restive one confined There is room enough Economy of glass And scraps and smoke Time moves slow enough But there was more to know