Time ticks by says the Rolex in my shadows,
I file away the transfers, as I file all my battles.

In bottom drawers, not to be seen again,
I think this filing system has transfered itself..
unto my head.

I categorize the top copies, by number then by name.
I think this archaic system has taken a toll on my brain.

I can always find things, even if I dump them in a bin,
as the phone rings itself off the hook,
I am often left in it's spin.

Too many dates, and too many numbers,
How can 80,000. leave me unencumbered?

So into those bottom drawers
I venture into a slumber,
now a quarter of a million flies by,
and all I feel is dumber.

I shouldn't venture back into those pristine binders,
what is stored there should be forgotten,
I should embrace this slumber.