Clock slowly ticks by
the gold hands inches around in a circle
Tick, Tick
The grandfather clock booms
He rocks back and forward
A blanket rest over his legs
Tick, Tick
No one dares to come upon him
He sits all day long
Staring, staring at the gold hands
Tick, Tick
No one comes up those stairs upon the grandfather
Tick, Tick
It booms the quiet house at 12
The man sits there
Staring, staring at those golden hands
Tick, Tick
Time flies by with that one hand inching by
He rocks, rocks back and forward
Tick, Tick
With those hands
Tick, Tick
With those benny eyes
Sharp like a eagle are now getting old
Tick, Tick
He stares until he can't keep
Tick, Tick
Them open