Canvas

Is this the old side of young, or the young side of old? Can I still invent myself, or has my story been told? I can remember the feeling of yesteryear A mixture of confidence slightly brackish with fear Water and fire Lost and found in kind All my desire You know it all goes down in my mind The days keep slipping out the door To get in their line Moving backwards and forwards They're threaded by time Water and fire Lost and found in kind All my desire You know it all goes down in my mind Hey you, what are you waiting for, fool? You act as though you've got all the time in the world But here's what's true: you're just standing still While you're turning all your dots into lines While you're turning all your dots into lines Decide who you are, not what you're wanting to be Decide who you are, not what you're wanting to be Is this the old side of young, or the young side of old? Can I still invent myself, or has my story been told?