The Future is Late

Past it came early, 

With the wings of a dove, 

Flapped away into the sunset, 

Shot away into the dark.

Present my quiet friend,

Sips brandy in a wheelchair, 

Wears mismatched shoelaces, 

Shoots dead pigeons for fun.

Future is a girl with braids in her hair, 

With a basket of stones on a treasure hunt.

Picks them up and drops them again.

And the clock runs away, he's out of the door.

The future is late.

It should have been here.

Who missed the bus?

Was it you my dear?

The present is stalled.

Like a slimy rubber band.

Doesn't stretch, doesn't break.

Doesn't tie up the loose ends.

The past was a mistake.

The present should have been there.

It's a traffic jam of events, officer.

Get them all moving ahead.

Who will give the green light?

Not me, I don't have the bloody lamp.

Someone get this whole train moving.

Someone tell them to tag right along.

The future is late.

And it's nobody's fault.

Set the candles at the table.

Turn the cha cha music on.

Let's give him a grand welcome.

He made us wait a long time, 

But it's alright, we don't mind.

Everyone, sit down for the feast.

Everyone, stand up for the dance.

The future is finally here.

The future was meant to be late.

You knew this all along.

Yet you made us hurry up.

Don't start clearing up.

Keep the doorway ajar.

Don't sleep just yet.

He's arrived in the car.

The future is late.

But it's still on time.

Maybe not yours, 

Maybe not mine.

But it's still on time.