Tonight we’ll lose an hour
But what I would like to know
Is where, exactly, do those minutes
They vanish like a finger snap
Magicians like to use
And just which minutes disappear
We do not get to choose.
At 2 a.m. we move the clocks
And suddenly, it’s 3.
Most people will not feel the loss
For Dreamland’s where they’ll be.
When morning comes, though, you can bet
A million folks will yawn
And all because they’ve lost an hour
Leading up ‘til dawn.
We’re told to change the clocks;
Nobody asked for our consent.
We acquiesce but wish we knew
Just where those minutes went.