Talks of tics-tocked

I close my eyes and try numbing this into nothingness, I sit perfectly still, but I still feel it, the  stillness still hits like a ton of bricks, I can't help but relive my regret as I remenisce on the talk of tocs the clock's already ticked, One hand firmly grips the past as the other grasps for tomorrow, And this is how I live, my arms stretched like drum skins, Like time is just a rift I've sunk in and I' know I've been told to seize the day but
it's a concept that never sunk in, I know I'm not the only one Living in the basement reaching for the attic, we all live in a state of want, we're all addicts, We're swimming in the static exacted by our own minds, we're all frantic, Hands in both directions reach for peace of mind, Just one thought to stitch this rip inside,our finger tips feeling  to grip our own piece of time, Now our need is nothing more than greed we seek nothing more than something more to want, when we live like this the clocks a smoking gun, we need to undo our skewed view of time, Life's not what we will do or what we've done, Life in what we're doing, this moments the one