Memories.

Every street lamp seems to beet a fatalistic warning. Someone mutters and a street lamp gutters and soon it will be morning. Daylight, I must wait for the sun rise.Ii must think of a new life and I mustant give in. When the dawn comes, tonight will be a memory too, and a new day will begin. Burnt out ends of smoky days, the stale cold smell of morning. The street lamp dies, another night is over, another day is dawning. Touch me, it's so easy to leave me all alone with the memory of my days in the sun. If you touch me, you'll understand what happiness is. Look, a new day has begun.

I've been warned that this is my last summer. After this, I'll need to get a job at the weekend, go to college during the week, have no time for fun. Wake up, it's time, we need to find a better place to hide. And you hear that these are the best days of your life. I need to use this time carefully and spend it wisely.

But I don't have the money to spend on time.

Time's a bird, which leaves its footprints at the corners of your eyes. Time's a jockey, racing horses, the sun and moon across the skies. Time's a thief, stealing your beauty, leaving you with tears and sighs, but you waste time trying to catch him, time's a bird and time just flies.

I'm not a good writer. I quote more than I right. If you want to read quote after quote, you're at the right place.