The Measure

Something's just not right.

That young man in the high school yearbook 

Is an old man now and dead.

I don't want to know how he looks.

It only reminds me of what's ahead.

 

Inside of us it's the 60's

We are still kids like we were back then

Was it real or just a dream?

At best it was a race against time.

Running past the life that was in between.

 

What’s past is not forgotten.

Would that I could repair,

But I don’t know how.

What’s left of us is never enough.

Regrets are the measure from then to now.

 

Something’s just not right.

The young are old and soon to be gone.

So very much we should have done.

But listen now to the fading voices,

And take one last look at the setting sun.