Hasten to the moment before it's past And lost to the less deserving. Dress up, dress up, you must look your best To attract the men you choose to reject. Has there ever been anything as important as this But the next thing? He was standing in a the room full of important guests Who were enduring another wonderful party And would later run home to cast themselves Upon the bed swearing never to go again. The host was holding stiletto conversations leaning On his friends phony exclamation and hyperbole. But this is our time, our precious time What is more important than us? We are awake and lost in our own time (And many said the past was one failure after another) (And many felt there was no future). We have today, the precious, precious gift from which We can squeeze every pleasure -- and every depression There is a motive but nothing more than this An edge and around several corners in back doors Is a means to an end. Wherein lies the unifying theme that explains our actions? There is but this This, now, the moment and the mood The quirk that drives the next desire. The thoughts that are and have been That thoughts that will be have been thought There is no higher goal for us that Brings peace at death There is but this This, now, the moment and the mood The quirk that drives the next desire. It has all been said and with so much clarity Than we can scarcely utter. We are on the leaning edge of the falling tower And long to feel the wind in our face Crashing, crashing done. It's the denier cri When we go, we go in style as in days Gone by. So clever Can you hear the crumble, the shifting, The losing of it all? Here we sit on the culture slide Waiting to ride into obscurity.