Sitting and watching,
the lost art.
Disappear without a sound,
the night turns dark.
You must get up,
make the most of your time.
Be productive, get moving
And don’t you dare take a step back,
to look at where we are heading.
In a few years you’ll be gone anyway,
no use fretting.
So just keep walking alone;
one hand in pocket, one holding a phone.
And keep strolling,
peering down, into the unknown.
In a few years you’ll be gone anyway.