There is something wrong
With the clock today
I'm watching hands move
As they stay stuck in place
Their movements minuscule
Almost a ridicule
Staring me in the face
Time meditating in this race
This day will probably never end
I don't believe, I can't pretend
Stuck in molasses of glorious mundane
The thought are evaporating from my brain
Good fucking God, it's so hot
Maybe the day is dead
The ghost of today
Is sitting on my head
And we're watching the clock
As hours tick away
Watching the clock
As we both sit and sway
No comments:
Post a Comment