And the clock ticks.

The ever steady click, Of the red hand as it twitches.

Unless that clock is digital.

Either way my strain is physical.

Once again the train is missed to go, Off to the land of subconcious flow.

Where a dream is a dream and whats known is known.

Not here where logic is blown away.

And yet its here im doomed to stay, As the clock continues to tick.

That ever steady click.

That click that makes me sick! Oh how i wish that tick would go away!

It wont untill i fall asleep.

But i cannot my thoughts are deep.

And so i lay without a peep and listen as it ticks.