Expiration Date

Everything comes with a date, Except the day you disappear. Some people measure all their time By receipts and traffic lights. They say, “You waste your breath on why— Just do your steps and swipe.” I used to chase a moving dot, Now I pause at crosswalk beeps. I’d rather burn my name in chalk Than laminate my sleep. Tell me who you’re saving it for— This invisible parade? There’s a limit on the shelf And no extension gets you paid. If it all expires anyway, What are you holding back for? No one leaves a perfect trace— So spend it like it's yours. She folds her shirts with tender care, Like someone's watching close. Saves her voice for someone fair— But never gets that post. My uncle swore he’d take a trip When the numbers looked more kind. He had a couch, a perfect grip— And nothing left behind. Tell me who you’re waiting to be— And when do you begin? They don’t hang a neon warning When the credits roll in. If it all expires anyway, What are you holding back for? No one leaves a perfect trace— So spend it like it's yours. What if Monday’s just as holy As a curtain-call farewell? What if no one really owes you That confetti at the bell? Say it now. Spend it loud. Don’t file it for review. Whatever’s left Is getting spent— With or without you. If it all expires anyway, What are you holding back for? No one leaves a perfect trace— So spend it like it's yours. Everything comes with a date, And you won’t know when you’re done.