Wasting Time

People say that we're reckless.
They say that we're wishing away our whole lives, but, that's kind of the whole point, isn't it?
It's why we waste our time.
We do it to get away from it all, from the "love", the bad luck, and the lies.
I can't speak for everyone, but it's why I'm wasting mine.

They say, "Youth is wasted on the young."
Well, yeah,
but death is wasted on the happy.
Hearts are wasted on love, and dreams are wasted on sleep.
Everything is wasted on something, so what's the point of trying not to waste me?

What's the point of saving myself?
My mind, my body, my soul.
What's the point, if I don't feel like myself?
If I don't feel whole.

I stay here, letting my clock tick away, waiting for the alarm to go off,
dreaming for the day that the time bomb drops.
I'm trapped inside an hourglass, trying to empty the top.
waiting for the sand to slip away, and for time to stop.

Who cares if we're reckless?
who cares if we want to die?
It doesn't matter if we're happy.
It doesn't matter if were alive.
Nobody dares say it, but they think it all the time.
Nobody dares to do it, but they hear the stories and think,
"I wish it were mine."

Everybody is reckless, in their own careful ways, and everyone is secretly letting their time slip away.