We’re running out of tomorrows, I start to say
And then, correcting myself, I say
We’re running out of todays
Give me, I plead, that spare hour now
Let me, I beseech, finish all pending yet
That long-awaited revolution, the unfinished book
That measure of love as yet unexpressed
All this and more, lest we run out of today
No, do not interrupt me with philosophy or theory
Their todays were long past yesterday
Craft thou now thine new philosophy
Test your hypotheses, publish that thesis, that theorem, that tome
Ring out your new truths in the streets
Call out the falsehoods lingering still
Or shout to the world your “I don’t care”s
All this and more, lest we run out of today
Away with your fevered dreams, your roseate sighs
There’s no room for a tomorrow any more
Live that dream today, sigh that sigh now
Be wistful, be unfocused, all in the moment
Paint, write or record every thought for posterity
Leave a long, unending note behind if you will
Or say just as much that you say nothing
All this and more, lest we run out of today
What? Have we run out of today already?