the present is a fast talking street preacher
the past is a meandering prophet
the future, is a fast talkin' teenage street preacher destined to be a prophet
why not dwell in the past? it's safe there, how i choose it to be
sepia tones of a perfectly constructed diorama of memory and little regret
but the future is a soft focus filled with redemption and grace, how could I not live there?
it is the present that I fit around my hips, uncomfortably tight and constricting
it is the present that is uncertain, inflated with regret
