I mark the high days and the holidays
Red-letter on the page;
Fast-forward into memory
Prepare to be upstaged
The envelopes I push against
So rapidly become
A wrap to keep me safe and warm
But soon enough I'll be undone

And if, for instance, I had spent a lifetime
In the service of cleanliness and godliness
I'd still be washed up now

My history doesn't make much sense
No corner has been turned
The future's brooding and immense
And everything I've learned
Seems tiny in the scheme of things
The reckoning's begun –
I hold together what I can
The stitches bound to come undone

And, for example, if I'd spent a lifetime
In pursuit of miraculously common sense
I'd still feel stupid now
I'm waiting on a final clue
A final validation
Of what I did, of what I hid
Of all I called my own

Our high days and our holidays
Are numbered, every one
So quick the hours rush away
And everything we've left's undone