More Precious than Gold

People say I'm not aged
like the Finest summer wine
but I give words of a sage

that time goes fast
and it will never last

that its precious than gold
if it was something you could hold
something cold,
bold,
like clay
you can remold
can only be told
by the ones
whom time came out of their blood
like a terrible, yet joyous flash flood
they have been dragged through the mud

and say that youth is wasted on the young
that its something they should have clung
some say its hidden in plain sight
unseen among the troubles and blights
and sometimes can only be cured
by the lonesome fights
or the romantic everlasting nights

now tell me will your troubles eat up all your time?
that you will never see that we rush through everyday?
not like its gold
but as if its the very air we breathe?

Youth is wasted on the Young