My body runs out to the sunshine air
I would do well, I would do well, to follow pronto
In the slow questing, the fast working
My hours tick confused, broken: what speed now, captain?
I look at the picture. Who am I?
The picture shows someone else. I thought it would be me
I listen to stories. Where am I?
I run left and right, for a minute I catch myself
Who am I if time never goes by?
What is time if I am not aging, asking, rattling?
In a row on the coach: me, me, me
Body, impatience, desire, poetry, deadlines
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