Tiny spheres float in fragile fashion
On fluid surfaces like time capsules of all ages
And spacious intervals
All days and months and years, they hold
Days and months and years, they hold
Days and months and years they hold on
They are so exposed to surface tension
And pressures of the atmosphere
They're cashing death threats;
Their obituaries merely substance of memories
But death can bring new life,
Though most things must die
Float on in fragile fashion
Float on in fragile fashion
Floating onward,
Ever waiting for the end to come,
That brings all to closure
Clocks are grinning,
Bearing witness to the passing time,
That turns all to memory
Floating onward ever waiting for the end to come