I could be whatever I want.
I could study; I could strive to exert.
But why let myself be over-worked?
It's just not my time, babe.
Am I ready for the changes yet to mould me?
Or will the coming changes merely scold me?
Well, I'm scared. Won't you hold me?
It's just not my time, babe.
My future's a watch-face that's broken.
Time's irrelevant and the days are unknown.
I'll try what's palatable to my condition.
I'll cut my flesh, but not down to the bone.
It's just not my time, babe.
One day I may feel ready to accept
The changes I must take to inter my regret.
But for now it's just not my time, babe.
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