The Clock Has Stopped

Grunge, Sadcore, Desert Rock, Stoner Rock, Alt-Country, Folk Rock, Indie Rock, Blues Rock, Lo-Fi

[Chorus]
[Drums enter with a simple, heavy, plodding beat (kick on 1, snare on 3). The bass guitar plays a root-note pattern that feels like a death march. The vocal raises in volume to a strained, desperate plea.]
And every tick feels like a tock that's punched me in the gut
This clock is mocking me from its position on the wall! (On the wall!)
I'm watching my own life just wasting away
From 9 to 5, then I'll come back the next day! (Gotta come back the next day!)

[Verse 2]
[Instruments drop back to just the intro guitar and bass. The fluorescent buzz is louder. A phone rings once and is ignored.]
I've organized the pens by color, black and blue and red
I've written a short novel in the cavern of my head
I've watched a single droplet of condensation slide
Down the side of my water bottle in its own sweet time
The inbox pings, a new request, a truly meaningless demand
I move my hand to answer it in slow, slow motion land

[Chorus]
[Full band returns, slightly more aggressive. The guitar has a touch of light distortion. The vocals are more angry than desperate.]
And every tick feels like a tock that's punched me in the gut! (In the gut!)
This clock is mocking me from its position on the wall!
I'm watching my own life just wasting away
From 9 to 5, then I'll come back the next day! (Oh, the next day...)

[Bridge]
[Music becomes slightly brighter, shifting to a major key (F major) as the singer fantasizes about freedom. The drums play a hopeful, standard rock beat. The vocal is clearer, more melodic.]
I could be anywhere but this beige-colored cube farm space
I could be feeling the fresh air right upon my face!
I could be living life instead of just surviving!

[The music cuts abruptly back to the slow, heavy drone of D minor. The fluorescent buzz is dominant again. The vocal slumps back into exhaustion.]
...But my time isn't my own, it's just on loan
'Til the clock decides to grant me my freedom.

[Guitar Solo]
[A short, lethargic, and bluesy guitar solo. The notes are slow, bent, and full of self-pity. It feels less like a solo and more like a musical sigh.]

[Final Chorus]
[Band plays with a final, exhausted burst of energy. The vocal is a shouted, raw-throated declaration of defeat.]
AND EVERY TICK FEELS LIKE A TOCK THAT'S PUNCHED ME IN THE GUT! (Punched me right in the gut!)
THIS CLOCK IS LAUGHING AT ME FROM ITS POSITION ON THE WALL! (It's laughing at me!)
I'm watching my own life just wasting away!
From 9 to 5, then I'll come back the next day!

[Outro]
[Music breaks down. Drums and bass drop out. Only the tired, repeating guitar riff and the buzzing light remain. The vocals are a listless, fading mumble.]
Then I'll come back tomorrow... and do it all again...
Yeah, I'll come back tomorrow...
The clock has stopped...
The clock has stopped...
The clock...

[A single, final, clean guitar note rings out.]
[The sound of a fluorescent light buzzing continues for three seconds before cutting to absolute silence.]

3463/7500

[Verse 1] [Clean, tired electric guitar joins, playing the same chords. Vocals are low, deadpan, and exhausted, almost spoken.] The second hand is stuck, it's barely even crawling I swear I heard the wall clock sigh and start out-stalling I've refreshed the page upon my screen a hundred times or more And answered the same question from the guy at Desk Number Four My coffee's gone from steaming hot to a depressing, lukewarm state I've calculated all the seconds 'til I'm free at number eight... [Chorus] [Drums enter with a simple, heavy, plodding beat (kick on 1, snare on 3). The bass guitar plays a root-note pattern that feels like a death march. The vocal raises in volume to a strained, desperate plea.] And every tick feels like a tock that's punched me in the gut This clock is mocking me from its position on the wall! (On the wall!) I'm watching my own life just wasting away From 9 to 5, then I'll come back the next day! (Gotta come back the next day!) [Verse 2] [Instruments drop back to just the intro guitar and bass. The fluorescent buzz is louder. A phone rings once and is ignored.] I've organized the pens by color, black and blue and red I've written a short novel in the cavern of my head I've watched a single droplet of condensation slide Down the side of my water bottle in its own sweet time The inbox pings, a new request, a truly meaningless demand I move my hand to answer it in slow, slow motion land [Chorus] [Full band returns, slightly more aggressive. The guitar has a touch of light distortion. The vocals are more angry than desperate.] And every tick feels like a tock that's punched me in the gut! (In the gut!) This clock is mocking me from its position on the wall! I'm watching my own life just wasting away From 9 to 5, then I'll come back the next day! (Oh, the next day...) [Bridge] [Music becomes slightly brighter, shifting to a major key (F major) as the singer fantasizes about freedom. The drums play a hopeful, standard rock beat. The vocal is clearer, more melodic.] I could be anywhere but this beige-colored cube farm space I could be feeling the fresh air right upon my face! I could be living life instead of just surviving! [The music cuts abruptly back to the slow, heavy drone of D minor. The fluorescent buzz is dominant again. The vocal slumps back into exhaustion.] ...But my time isn't my own, it's just on loan 'Til the clock decides to grant me my freedom. [Guitar Solo] [A short, lethargic, and bluesy guitar solo. The notes are slow, bent, and full of self-pity. It feels less like a solo and more like a musical sigh.] [Final Chorus] [Band plays with a final, exhausted burst of energy. The vocal is a shouted, raw-throated declaration of defeat.] AND EVERY TICK FEELS LIKE A TOCK THAT'S PUNCHED ME IN THE GUT! (Punched me right in the gut!) THIS CLOCK IS LAUGHING AT ME FROM ITS POSITION ON THE WALL! (It's laughing at me!) I'm watching my own life just wasting away! From 9 to 5, then I'll come back the next day! [Outro] [Music breaks down. Drums and bass drop out. Only the tired, repeating guitar riff and the buzzing light remain. The vocals are a listless, fading mumble.] Then I'll come back tomorrow... and do it all again... Yeah, I'll come back tomorrow... The clock has stopped... The clock has stopped... The clock... [A single, final, clean guitar note rings out.] [The sound of a fluorescent light buzzing continues for three seconds before cutting to absolute silence.]

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