by H. Farca

Created on: August 29, 2009

I take or give, a choice of fate,

Your life depends on Watergate;

I make you rich, then make you poor,

When going out early,

You then arrive late.

I like the young, the old shall die,

You get all nervous, thus makes you lie;

You laugh, and jump, though filled with joy,

So you then weep,

And cry & cry.

Though watch your back though soon be not,

Yet I'm a traitor of the lot;

You must pull out, a lucky deck,

To rise and shine,

So I have thought.

Though I are kinky, I am cold,

It makes you seldom, makes you bold;

Though very quiet, I fancy fame,

So much favor thy glitter and diamonds,

and gold.

Though time is new,

Fresh, loyal and blue;

Moments pass, and do not last,

Here, treasure those memories,

Now paste them with glue.

I make you see, shall I arrive,

You buckle off, then drive and drive;

Then get you blind,though soon be gone,

For you too,

Shall quickly thrive.

I'm not to touch, I have no shape,

So try to hide, under your cape;

You run and hide, though soon be found,

So live and chill,

You cant escape.

I vanish soon, so thus await,

As running water, be my bait;

So hold on tight for ill let loose,

Push off a cliff,

your rocking crate.

Though I am old, and I am wise,

through dusk and dawn, i do disguise;

While clocks on ticking ticking's not,

Time flies my friend,

It surely flies.

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