Life finds us broken.
And in times us drilled open.
That little lark on the branch hummed.
In the toil and dreams it drunk.
Yet the melody lingers,
Even after death finds it swiftly.

Oh immortals who wraps themselves
In the mellow clouds,
Harken to our petty plight.
We see our times in the hands of a clock.
They swirl and twine,
Weaving our ages away like old granny.
Soon our sights fail to recognize.
Our teeth falls as the arms strike twelve.
Nothing left but a clock face
That covered in ashes of our bones.
Yet the little gears still spin.
And the movement still flourishes.

How I envy you peevish clock!
Waving your arms,
While we suffer in the face of our boss.
How I love to smash your bells,
When we still indulge in our wet morning dreams.

Oh deity from the fluffy mellows,
Rid us of this terrible fellow.
Where is the difference in time,
When we came in naked,
While leave and rot naked too?


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