It's been my case in point for a while

To see Twelve o'clock strike

And split our day into tear-fests and smiles.

Symmetric... divided into metric fractions.

And so we will program our actions.

Say it when needed.

Let our minds dwell in a fashionable proverb -

Seeded inside are the lessons that will guide us.

Kiss me at just the right time

Though I may be in some kind of bind,

Sustain me with watch-measured signs

And show me how we flow like clockwork.

Every minute on the fated hour

Send me robotic embraces.

Take me to comfortable places.

But above it all,

Make sour demise of our faces

At Six o'clock -

Carry out our scheduled dispute.

Live by the grandfather hand

And fight for an hour and half.

7:30 sends us into a sturdy sex -

The all nighter we knew we'd get.

But yet... why am I unfulfilled?

It's layed out in front of me still.

Two in the A.M.

Leaves me so desperate for what I was saying at Ten.

Wondering why I have spent

Every penny for my thoughts

On some expensive perpetual clock.

From Two to Five I lay solemnly awake

And pray that the clock hand will break for our sake.

Send us into a world of unknowns -

The uncanny zones where we feel so incredibly alone together.

No trusting guide to follow

But finally prone to borrow some real kind of breath

And exhale every fear from our chest through a newly freed lung.

Can you hear all the tears that we sung?

For once they are notes on a musical scale.

For once we are heard through the wind.

We can sing. We can sing

With no rhythmic confines.

No soul-stealing clock that will bring

A paralysis to all the callouses dressing my spine.

For once I can feel the totality of our surrender -

The horridly wonderful taste of reality.

Or... is it within this frame of time

That I express what is secondly mine

Through some scheduled individuality?

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