When I consider how my time is spent, I often pretend I'm blind
And try to remember just what it meant to look for and to find
When I consider the time I use and even stay up late
Making lengthy lists, "To Do"s and deciding what can wait
When I consider how my time is spent, and the hours I stay awake
Something important didn't get sent (time flies, for goodness sake!)
When I consider how my time is fun, remembering this and that
Keeping house when there's noone (oh, sometimes the
neighbor's cat)
When I consider how my time is spent, I cringe and wonder why
I seem to want to circumvent the fact that I must die
That the substance that is "I" gets spent, not knowing itself
just how it went. And sometimes someone now must find
a new world , of a different kind, where we don't spin around,
as in a vent, and wonder how in the world our time
was spent.
