Oh, the Universe and it's Infinite Amounts of Bad Timing, parts I & II

Part I
Oh the universe and it's infinite amounts of bad timing
Always slanted, trying for balance
People want to stay for one last drink or
Dogs want to explore one last scent on their walk home or
Birds want to find one last color to sing for
Some artist wants to draw one last line through his vision of the city
But the slopes steepen and we make our way back

I come back through leagues of days like stacks of old newspaper
Towering to my sides, and with each pillar of black and white photographs
And dull neighborhood mythology
I feel a little less a part of the room we're standing in
And through the corridors of thin, crisp paper
I find nothing more interesting then the stories left behind me
For I knew their voice as something more than this
    Back when my heart still raced through my friends hands
    And they would never have enough time to study it for the truths I found
    Wandering for hours through rocky shores in the Arkansas back woods
    Where clouds were pulled thin across the sky, and black silohuettes fluttered among empty air
    As little gusts of wind felt more like the presence of the holy ghost
    And I found the beauty one needs to find to feel human, though I fear it is just for me
But waiting for the dead to entertain you seems sick and inhumane
And waiting for the dead to answer your questions only leaves you curious for a while
We cannot hope for the past to awaken from it's dreams
Where it relives itself over and over again like I imagine our last moments in passing might be
    Remembering the way water slid down my belly in the shower
    Or how I learned to ride a bicycle, and took it up and down the same block for hours
    Or the way my grandmother looked different in her coffin
        No one looks the same in a coffin
    Those are the moments that come to me clearly
We need to find stories of our own, that teach us what we want to learn
    Might as well make them ourselves

    Part II
It's time to seek wisdom, but to keep your skin tight
    [Oh the universe and it's bad timing, wasting youth on the young]
Because we cannot rely on gravestones to write the headlines
Or for the poet laureate of the crypt to make us believe in love again by performing a sonnet
We need to grow in a sense, but not the way I did it, growing up...terrible thing
    [I'm afraid I do not fear monsters or darkness anymore, not even strange noises throughout the house]
Growing up is like peforming surgery ever moment of your life
Everything stands on a razors edge, and the family is in the waiting room praying, your hand shaking
Nothing comes lightly anymore, it's all a threat to you now, and just as you figure out you shouldn't live this way
You've already begun...and you've already decided to stay

Oh the universe and it's infinite amounts of bad timing
I wish I had the heart to listen more sincerely when I was younger
But I didn't
I wish I had the strength to respect the world throughout my adolescent stage
But again, I didn't
I found the pitfalls just as I was stepping into them, but then again, it led me here
To this valley where I found fossils of glorious lives gone by, all mine for a time
They tell me things that they would have liked to do better
They tell me of times when I had forgotten my patience and seen the sun go red, the day go dark, the world go cold
    Now they lay around me like fallen flower petals, while I search for love in their death
    And every other piece of symmetry that falls away from me, to the point where I lose it's depth in my sight
    Becomes a point of hope for me
    Because with each fleeting moment, more and more I come to terms with the fact that it's outside my control
    This whole strange arrangement of faces and names, fear and doubt, hate and love
    It's all blended so well, I cannot tell the difference between some of them anymore
    And I always hoped to be remembered, it kept me awake at night, and I always planned on being something great
    But that's not how it works, it's not how I'll live I'm sure--though I will try
You can destroy yourself over things like this; realizing nothing goes the way you hoped
The way you look at the world and how it can still work without your tiny gear piece
Things like this will make you go mad; but no matter, it's not worth much in the end
Because you can take yourself out, or keep yourself in, or you can even work in reverse
But those big wheels take more than a lifetime to change
    Oh the universe and it's infinite amounts of bad timing

    You'll die out before you see the things you create flourish, and become what it really is
    You can feel like nothing all you like, but I'd be happy changing the world
    No matter how late or early it happens
    You can call it bad timing, but I just call it the way it worked out
    Just as the rest of these lives turned out
Being born, learning to kiss, exploring the wilderness, swimming in the ocean, breaking your arm
All of this worked out the way it did, and no one can take it from you or change it for you now

    The way it worked out
        Is all you have