Tomorrow is a race

Yesterday is a name

Today is a chase

No means to an end

 

We are leaves,

Drifting where we are told

We are sieves,

Disposing neatly of the old

 

We are nothing

But we are great

We are everything

But we are late

 

I am here, I am present

I am what I cannot be

I am iron, refusing to be bent

I am only what I cannot see

 

Today is a race

Tomorow is a name

Yesterday is a chase

No means to the end