I wrote this one last night
just before I succumbed
to the ever-turning
tides of slumber
But I must first warn you
If you are among the millions
who've never blinked an eye
Never stopped to wonder
what the world will be like
when you step out your door tomorrow
and gaze, unseeingly
upon yet another
vast, narrow road
Never asked a question
never wondered why
but walked these roads so blinded
never caring or feeling
Totally numb
A silent pawn
in the game of passing time
Then you will not understand,
you can never understand
what it means to cry.
Why people feel for one another
why we embrace
and love, and give
Why we dream about tomorrow
Why we mourn, and try, and pray
If you cannot breath
the air of truth
nor taste
the tears of hope and of sorrow
You will not be more
than the dust that makes you
the sand and sea
that flows in your veins
You will never open to something more
nor see a silver moon
nor hold a broken heart
And at the end of days
when all are dancing
you will not hear
the Storyteller's Song.
Anyways, after that brief introduction
from which my hands
have grown fairly sore
here it is . . .
The clock ticks on and on
rain falls and wind howls
stars shine by a crescent moon
someone runs, something's gone
And the clock keeps ticking on
The clock ticks on and on
children run and play
laugh without a trouble or care
yet feel the ground they're standing on
And the clock keeps ticking on
The clock ticks on and on
fire shot, man is lost in vain
a brother gone, but no one's weeping
just another fallen pawn
And the clock keeps ticking on
