Time is a product of relativity
Or so it's often been said
One sees it in effect each everyday
the moment one arises until bed
With irritating regularity each one begins
The moments, the situations are the same
The parameters, the variables change a little
the only thing common is your own name
Through this loop we suffer -continue
and we mark this progression in years
We look back and think its history
but the truth, stranger than it appears
The seconds are slowly slipping away
But haven't we been here before?
Just another day, in a different way
Can you tell what's real anymore?