Fog in the sunrise, wind in the leaves, Moments like whispers, too easy to leave. We chase down the hours, race through the years, Building our towers from laughter and tears. [Verse 2] Clocks never bargain, they don’t slow for pleas, They slip through our fingers like sand on the breeze. We carry our stories in silence and rhyme, Each breath a treasure, a pocketful of time. [Chorus] Pocketful of time, Slipping through the seams. Blink and it’s gone— Was it real or a dream? [Verse 3] Footprints in gravel, names carved in stone, Echoes of people now long overgrown. We measure our wealth not in silver or gold, But in fires we lit and the hands that we hold. [Chorus] Pocketful of time, Slipping through the seams. Blink and it’s gone— Was it real or a dream? [Bridge] So open your eyes, let the moment begin, The clocks keep on ticking, but life’s tucked within. No map to the ending, no bell for the start— Just fragments of wonder to carry in heart. [Chorus – Final] Pocketful of time, Slipping through the seams. Hold what you can— It’s less than it seems.
