This battered clock refuses now to chime
I think it does it solely out of spite
It's tears forever trapped in stolen time
It chimes so loud and forlorn late at night.
Like some forgotten child on the street
That skips around so active after dark
When morning comes she'll slowly drag her feet..
And silently lie weeping in the park.
This battered clock has served its time in silence
In hope that it will fire up a spark
Of silent indignation for the lost ones
To noisily shine through the dooming dark.
I am both clock and child combined
Silent fighter for my freedom
A prisoner of forgotten dreams
In this worn out dusty kingdom.
