Do
You really think that clocks like
To be remembered as
Murderers?
'Cause that's what they do:
Kill time.
Your time.
My time.
TIME.
There's no bloody trace behind,
No meaningful lie,
No sinful footprint,
No doomed shelter for
The gun,
No nothing.
The shabby evidence is a
Lost son,a lonely soul,
A wounded hole
In the middle of his
Ringing chest.
'Tic-toc,tic-toc,
I don't knock,
But you choke
When I die for you...
Fool,
Thinking about ticks?
Kiss the chicks,smoke that cigar,
You've gone too far!
I get another,
And another,and another-
You get dust!
Better said,
Become dust...'
I love time-I have no choice-
I need to raise my voice,
I get to live just once!
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