When it's time
and if it's time
it will be mine.
Time has a habit of creeping up on you and peeking into you
then staking a claim.
Fame you can keep it
I've seen it and spent it on even more time
that is the hourglass
a time that we save and time that we waste
all a matter of personal taste and of circumstances beyond our control
controlled by the clock I am constantly in shock
when I look at how time flies yet stands still.
I am reasonably sure that sometime in the future I will look back on these minutes with a grimace
and a smile
meanwhile time takes a break with some tea and a cake
and I sit by
watching the clock
still in shock and in awe
because it just passed three thirty and it's a quarter past four.
I can't even sleep got to keep my eyes on the tick
and the tock makes me sick.
Think I'll pick up a pickaxe
smash the clock and I'll relax
but in the twilights of midnights where the demons of mornings and in the yawnings of men it's already ten after ten
can't escape
I shall wait for the winding it's grinding me down
and I need a pick me up
a tonic to buck me up and I should just shut the
clock up.