A Future Gone Fishing

slow-motion is silver, silence is gold
we don’t need a future until we get old
inside i’m soft, outside it’s cold
we odn’t need a future until we get old
present and past in constant competition
forming a reluctant, regressive coalition
a mutated ambition in sedated condition
making «making my mind up"someone else’s decision
why rush tomorrow to bloom and unfold
we don’t need a future until we get old
to save me i put my personality on hold
we don’t need a future until we get old
blurred vision, a future gone fishing
i live inside an intermission
too busy not having a life to have time to live
yesterday choke tomorrow when calling
all there is, is gravity
and the fear of falling