You never really know where life is going to take you —when it will move you
 from circle to circle
 searching for a spare but returning in kind 

You never really know when will be the last time
 the last kiss, last word, last breeze
 the last sight or last touch, 
 the last breath

We get caught in a web of routine
 stuck in wayward flow
 but with each fleeting moment
 we waste or hoard

We could be living the last of them all
 the last of the spring or the last dew drop
 the last sweet embrace
of nothingness

Never would it be known
 until the curtrain drops upon the deaf demise
 of our technicolor world