The grains of sand
Sift through his hands
And we can only watch
Water trickles
The moon becomes a sickle
And all we do is watch
The hand is bored
Away says the Lord
And he throws us to the side
*I made some watchers in the sand
All they do is sit and stand and till the land
I'm sick to my core of these people in my hand!*
To the hourglass we were thrown
To reap a punishment none of us had sown
Time had become simulation
An age of a simulated God was known.
As time, the grains of sand
Sift through the simulated hands
All we do is watch
We are man.