I can’t choose my time
And that is someone’s crime
For I know who steals it
And the Hell’s purpose for its kit

But still I stand
And try to land
My both hands on time’s body
To manipulate my own cry

Slicing the time for their wishes
And putting on their golden dishes
Makes me wish for a tunnel
Through the dark funnel

Being strong is what requires to survive
And letting the Dark Ones yourself to describe
For the time can be regained only
By the dripping pain, slowly…

Hmm... I like it. Are you talking about how you can't control when you'll die? I'm just taking a shot into the dark.

Well, it is actually meant as time, which you can't control while alive. That stuff might happen also. Like - with me.