A song is playing in the background
Time fails to stand still. In fact, it quickly travels back where every brick was loved.
Why do I breathe the Time in, when I want it out?
Why did I want to believe in you, when I had faith in Time?
Why I kept gathering the slipping moments, and why you kept up your Time for the world?
When even a breath couldn’t pass through the both of us, how did Time pass through?
How punctual was Time really then?