One Life Long

You keep a drawer of somedays,

sorted, folded, kept for best —

the call you'll make, the road you'll take,

the words you're saving up.

And the drawer believes you, honestly.

The drawer has all the time.

The drawer will outlast both of us,

still folded, still for best.

So how long is forever?

Measure it in the only unit that's real —

Forever's one life long.

That's the length of every promise,

every grudge, every "later," every vow —

one life long.

So spend it like it's counted,

'cause it's counted.

I'm not selling you the panic —

that's a different door to door.

Counted isn't cruel, it's clarifying:

it's why any of it matters.

An endless day needs nothing done.

A numbered one asks questions.

Answer a few before the light goes.

Answer the big two first.

So how long is forever?

Measure it in the only unit that's real —

Forever's one life long.

That's the reach of every fear as well —

every dread you're renting rooms to:

one life long. No longer.

So spend it like it's counted,

'cause it's counted.

Forever's one life long,

and here's the mercy in the maths:

the clock's not cruel. The clock is honest —

the only honest thing you'll never bribe.

So be as honest as the clock.

Spend it like it's counted.

It's counted. Good.

Begin.

Aaah — aaah — aaah —