The clock

Tick-tock, tick-tock, this clock is ticking away

Tick-tock, tick-tock, our lives just turned gray

Stuck between it’s moving arms

You cry and fret but there’s no escape.

Each of us, willing or not,

Live inside a wooden clock

As it’s gears move and advance

A ticking song makes humans dance

Twisted song, and twisted time

Not listening to it – a crime.

You tend to it, make sure it moves

You hope that everything improves

You turn the gears, polish it’s hands

But no one really knows it’s plans.

You wish that it just keeps on running

That it won’t lie, it isn’t cunning,

But really, it only needs a second

To stop your dance, and stop your fear.



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