It becomes clear that it is not so clever
when you're stood in the line.
And behind you the clock is telling you
yelling loud at you that the moment is now or is never.

Time to sever the links of the knots and the kinks
that have tied you in chains
which in turn have become the keepers of the pain which resides in you
glides through you.

The clock is quite striking
I've taken somewhat of a fancy a liking
for the Ivory dial.
Every movement relays
what delays I have made and the line starts to fade as we move on some more.


But that clock is a doorway and one day we'll knock
and hear as it says,
'Welcome to always you'll always be here'
There is nothing to fear but the chime
but the time
stood in line
being date stamped and tamped down as the second hand
starts to bear down
and the queue you were in has got thin with the worry
what's the hurry?
we're all getting there
where
time stands so still
on the hill of tomorrow in a sunken grey hollow
we wait.