the hands of the clocks
made to be just as daunting as before 
endlessly lost in thought of you
painted numbers began to start taunting me, too   

the tick and the tock that seems 
to echo so lifelessly;  hopeless contemplation it is deemed 

all of a sudden, everything became still 
and I was faced with a lover, looking for a cheap thrill 
I stopped time for us to become anew 
calling her over and over only to never get through