A slightly off center rearranging of the walls
Nick your hourglass just a little and it falls
Some complicated stranger says we're gonna have a ball,
But the clock is unmoving and we're waiting for the phone call

Sip another drip of tonic spiked to oblivion,
Counting little numbers in your head to one million,
Think of all the promises you've made, one billion,
How many of them have you really kept?
Not a single one

Take the last dose and get high on enigma,
Feel the rushed glances of disdain and stigma,
Roughly beating at the bone,
Calculate and then condone,
Simulating frequent tones,
Pulsing quick like metronome,
Now signing off in monotone,
Sigma