A slice of time
Curling, peeling
Back from the edge of the knife
Light fluttering
As if between two trains
Motor-drive frames of life
Long blends of days
Stream into nights
Consciousness barely coping
The land going by seems level
But really the tracks are
Increasingly sloping
Images, images, images, images
Arranged against a blank wall
Images, images, images, images
Telling the truth to us all
Pluck out a day
A week or an hour
Hold it up, hold it up to the light
Freeze the frame
Really look at the faces
With all of your sight
See the eyes
Looking at you
Immerse yourself into that minute
My teacher said time is elastic
I wonder just what
I’ll find in it
A slice of time
Curling, peeling
Back from the edge of the knife
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David Crosby Lyrics – Slice of Time