Making Maps

I watch the second hand
As it stumbles past that number twelve
It’s such a vicious hand
That pushes everything away from me

So young, with all the time in the world
You run and hide
Mapping out so many dreams
So many plans

When so much is new
The ticking of the clock is just too quiet to hear
When so much is new
Nothing seems to matter

Time etches itself across your face
The ticking just gets louder

Those maps that we made when were young
They start to fade and tear at the edges
The places we wanted to go
Slowly disappear

And when the ticking stops
When we all notice the silence
It’s the sound we could all hear
But we chose to ignore it

It’s the sound we could all hear
But we all choose to ignore it

And as we keep growing up
We’re just waiting for that ticking to stop
And as we start giving up
The sound keeps on getting louder