It never really seems to cease
the fog that hugs the floor
I try to make myself at peace
Hardly bothered anymore
For a mill producing coffee grounds
I make too many hard-heard sounds
However then I choke my mind
I'm just not of the tranquil kind

And what is the direction of the arrow of time?
Nothing ever stops but I can't tell where I am going
I feel like I am stuck but the horizon keeps on moving
I don't fear but I don't know what I should leave behind
If only I could know the arrow of time...

Another winter comes at last
the ghosts of old are gone
We always seem to move too fast
to make them all undone
Yet they will haunt us in their void
They make me feel so paranoid
So I just try to chase them out
thinking that will ease my doubt