Another revolution
Winds about the clock
Ticking and tocking
Mock, mock, mocking
Me -
The eye entrenched
In stagnancy, so still
I stand
Alone -
Like a patch
Of dead, gold grass
Colored like midnight mass,
Full of whispered wishes
Unheard by a slumbering God.
Oh God, oh God
I am
Spinning on my spinster's wheel
Spinning cold thread for you to feel
And feel until I reel from your sweet, gentle hands,
Hands disgusted that they hold me.
Me, me, me
It's all I see
****** I swore to look
More and more
But the up and down
Swings me until I exist or drown,
Until I  am none and both, betwixt
The hands holding the revolver,
Revolving round bullets into me.

Oh my, how I
Endeavor to the end
Only to make a bend
Around to the beginning
Again.