Every second locks us out from the clock that locks us in and we begin to see the crime of time,
an
accomplice to these thoughts of mine.

The millisecond dilettante can't change the fact that I'm being backed into the corner where the undertaker with his measure waits to stake his one and one time only claim to this my body, time's insane I'd never give my precious day to anyone who'd take away my right to life and the wife of time who I don't know but feel sure that she's no friend of mine sweeps steadily with her busy hands readily taking the minutes away trashing them as if to say,
they're no use get used to it.

Any shilling in my pocket is one more shilling I'd be willing to give to live,
I have fifteen shillings to midnight and the clock still locks me in.