Here are the souls for my mind to reap,
The bitter people in sleeping keep,
A life of sorrow dipped from mad,
The Ticking Clock without a hand.
…
Here are the minds for my hands to mold,
A slowing heart that's running cold,
The rain of blood from a world of sand,
The Ticking Clock without a hand.
…
Here are the hands for my heart to feel,
The living truth that man can deal,
A stolen heart and burning brand,
The Ticking Clock without a hand.
…
Here are the hearts for my words to break,
The line of lies for lover's sake,
A missed mistake and fallen band,
The Ticking Clock without a hand.
…
Here are the souls for my heart to heal,
The Trade of Truce that breaks the real,
Alone I stand across the land,
With a Ticking Clock without a hand.
…
Here is the job that I'm forced to do,
To take the hearts and souls from you,
They say this job is who I am,
A Ticking Clock without a hand.
...
Thoughts?
-Silence Nevermore