Here I am trying to stop the clock.
It moves too fast to catch.
I wonder when it will slow,
For, it moves on blood.
It thickens with all my sins.
It speeding up my life like a boat on water.
Fear stops me with worry of falling.
My life could end if I try to stop it.
My armor is worn to the last strand standing.
All that’s left to fight is me.

The clock is ticking,
The blood is dripping,
God is sleeping,
And I am alone.

Those ticking fingers on the clock now control me like a puppet.
The ropes on my arms too strong like spider’s silk.
What can I do when my sins control me?
Voices speak like whispers through the ticking.
Their words clouded with tears as they try to stop it.

The clock is ticking,
The blood is dripping,
The fingers are spinning,
Dragging my soul.