Look at what I’m sittin’ on, this
black and blue clock. Lord I
try to change the seconds in the
tick and the tock, but I
see the wearing in my rags, and
there’s no need to do the math –
tickin’ while I’m trickin’ myself
on this short run.
Look at what I’m dreamin’ of, this
hour of glass. Lord I
pray to face the sandstorm so the
hour can last, but I
see erosion in my rock, and
no way for bleeding to stop –
trickle just a little ’til the
hour is done.
‘Should have’, ‘could have’, ‘would have’;
let me give those back now.
Missing miracles for
all the sins I have now.
I’ve borrowed enough of your
time; I need to use what’s left of