The clock is ticking out a ceaseless pattern;
It is heedless to the entreaties of man.
I hear the monotonous rhythm;
Its schedule will be kept.
Minus a minute, minus a day,
How soon before our lives have ticked away?
Sans mercy, sans compassion,
The clock is relentless, untiring in its fashion.
Each moment timeless,
Every second a treasure,
To fight against nature is a pointless endeavour;
Spend the remaining years wiser than the wise.
The clock has rendered your days to a number;
But despair not, and live them before eternal slumber.
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 9:14 AM UTC
The clock is ticking out a ceaseless pattern;
It is heedless to the entreaties of man.
I hear the monotonous rhythm;
Its schedule will be kept.
Minus a minute, minus a day,
How soon before our lives have ticked away?
Sans mercy, sans compassion,
The clock is relentless, untiring in its fashion.
Each moment timeless,
Every second a treasure,
To fight against nature is a pointless endeavour;
Spend the remaining years wiser than the wise.
The clock has rendered your days to a number;
But despair not, and live them before eternal slumber.
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