Losing Time Video (MV)

By the day, where you going?
By the week, where you going?
By the year, where you going?
By the minute, by the minute, oh
By the minute, by the minute, oh
By the minute, by the minute
By the day, where you going?
By the week, where you going?
By the year, where you going?
By the minute, by the minute, oh
By the minute, by the minute, oh
By the minute, by the minute
Bull-headed, let loose in the temple, untethered
Ceramic nightmare, I forget it
I saddle up to ride
We'll pick up the pieces to find
Where they fall more beautiful than anything I've made
Listen to the words now that I say
Sound written by a timpani
Heavy handed
So demanding
That you live in my head just to get it
With the tide rising with every cheap glass of wine that I'm biding my time with
See, I've never lost time, just a liberated pocket full of cats eyes
Traded for a notebook, to this day still dancing out of guidelines
I'm better suited, nothing proven
Except bad at making money, better at losing
Aloof goofin' by the posts that gods keep moving
But no Lord of mine, my world sanitized
Don't long for the past, ego loves the way I write
"Cut cook at the feet" a good first line
A new chapter
Bloody stumps on the rungs
Reminded us that the little things matter
By the day, where you going?
By the week, where you going?
By the year, where you going?
By the minute, by the minute, oh
By the minute, by the minute, oh
By the minute, by the minute
By the day, where you going?
By the week, where you going?
By the year, where you going?
By the minute, by the minute, oh
By the minute, by the minute, oh
By the minute, by the minute
Shit could change in a minute
Shit could change in a minute
Shit could change in a minute
Shit could change in a minute
Shit could change in a minute
Shit could change in a minute
Precious things are kindling in the making
Poets make good arsons
Tired of hearing one voice ringing
Drowning out the crowds passing
So I'll drain my account to last crumbs and pennies
I don't sell labour; I build up cities
I don't swell when I'm ill; art gets gritty
I bliss out more viscously
This is "blink and you miss it"
That sense of anticipation still kicking
That feeling of what's brittle will break
That feeling something's different of late
Knuckles rap on doors before the foot drops
Unamused by that fit you sport
Grit our teeth and get with it
Shit could change in a minute
By the day, where you going?
By the week, where you going?
By the year, where you going?
By the minute, by the minute, oh
By the minute, by the minute, oh
By the minute, by the minute
By the day, where you going?
By the week, where you going?
By the year, where you going?
By the minute, by the minute, oh
By the minute, by the minute, oh
By the minute, by the minute