"Time On Our Side

A poet questioned, “Why?
Would God paint the sky—
So bright, so blue, but so far away?”
The painter answered, “Why?
Mere words make fools cry—
The poet smiled and said,
Ask me on a rainy day

Me, I think it’s strange—
The world spins, seasons change, and years go by.
It feels like I’m running out of time.
People come and go,
They check their watch, the hands will show
The time of day, but I already know:

Time is never really on my side.
That time is never really on my side.

A child asked, “Mother, why
Do people have to die?
Does someone from above come and steal their soul away?”
His mother said, “Don’t cry, all who live shall die.”
And she pulled him close, then sent him on my way
Then, sent him on his merry way

Don’t you think it’s strange—
The world spins, and seasons change, and years go by.
It feels like we're running out of time.
Friends will come and go,
They’ll check their watch, the hands will show 
The time of day, But they already know:

Time is never really on our side.
That time is never really on our side.
Time is never really on our side.
©Eric Saitz"

This is the oldest melody I’ve ever written , along with the original lyrics I created as a child . On Tuesday, I woke up and rewrote the lyrics , aiming to retain the emotions I felt back then while incorporating my current perspective. The mix and the rewrite aren’t quite finished yet , but I wanted to share them with my friends . Peace!