Tik… tik… tik… I hear them marching. Clocks with teeth. Clocks with bones. They laugh like devils And I run. Still run. I stitched my name in the coat of Time, But he tore it out with silver knives. My boots are ash, my hands are fire But I still chase that ticking choir. Tik… tik… tik… (it’s not a beat - it’s a dare) He dances backwards through my chest, Wearing my dreams like stolen vests. I’m running after clocks! With pockets full of dust. I scream at passing hours But they never scream back. I’m bleeding minutes, breaking bells Still chasing what I lack. I’m running. Always running. After clocks. Once I found a second, Sleeping in a spoon. I fed it to a sunrise And it withered far too soon. Time wears a crown of spiders, He plays the harp of fate. I asked him for a mercy, He handed me a gate. (rising, twisting, tempo accelerates - as if being chased) I’m running after clocks! With lungs full of thunder. I carve my path through broken chimes But time just pulls me under. I kiss the seconds, bite the hours Still they never wait. I’m running. I’m burning. I’m late. Tik… tik… tik… Do you hear it? That was me. Too late. Again.
