Our kind watches you humans…
You look to us, if only casually,
If not out of habit,
But time fades away gradually,
Another second departs, darts,
Another minute moves before you can grasp it,
Another hour is gone before you can grab it.
Another day and another gripe,
Another dream gone down the pipes,
Another dream torn down and dismantled,
All we can do is watch from the mantle.
You hang us up, place us on stands,
Move to the motion of our hands,
And like an hourglass’s precious sands,
The reliable and hard-working grinder,
We’re only a physical reminder,
Of incorporeal things you can’t understand.
Time is forever fleeting. Where does it go?
Ebb and flow – into memories deleting,
(And you’re late for another meeting).
You task us with your intentions,
Behind these heavy and thick walls,
You whisper secrets and indiscretions,
Things we dare not mention,
Said against your fellow man, but we hear it all.
You wind us up, make us ring,
Just so you can’t miss the ‘important’ things.
P.M. means [Post-Mortem] means unfulfilled time,
A.M. means [Anxious Meditation], obsessive contemplation,
Endless preoccupation, fixation on the daily grit and grime,
Fear of uncategorized time leads to overcompensation.
Present time is most comfortable, yet you scramble,
Chasing and regretting another gamble,
Human beings are confused jitterbugs with no sensation.
Digital or analog,
You know of our kind,
Another moment in time to add to your catalog,
Another moment you’d like to rewind,
We aren’t here to dictate but to remind.
What’s on the agenda today?
Development or decay? Delight or dismay?
Will there be change or more of the same?
Life for us is a numbers display,
A quarter, half-past… [You know the spiel]
We don’t care what you think or how you feel,
To us your concerns are not even real.
What we represent is infinite, you’re trifling,
You’re lack of precognition is pretty stifling,
Knowledge is power, power is the key,
If only you could picture what we see,
You’d make more of your time instead of idling.
Intimate universal knowledge of the infinites,
You think time flies, but we know speed limits,
Galaxies surround you, but priorities cloud you.
If you could picture in your wildest dreams,
Nebulas, prisms, cosmic systems,
Oceans of stars, interstellar schisms,
Intricate temporal and spatial schemes,
Time is no measure of feeling,
Time is no measure of being,
Time can never be gained;
It can’t be courted or swain,
Any attempts to save it are in vain,
Seconds, minutes, and even hours wane,
Memories recede, emotions bleed,
Every passing hour plants a new seed,
Once-important things fade into the grain.
We’re merely the physical reminder,
The reliable grinder, a daily greeting,
Ebb and flow – into memories deleting,
Time is forever fleeting.
Your kind watches us and we watch YOU.
Yet you still don’t understand our point of view…
It seems you’re still thinking about that noon meeting.
It is in 5 minutes.
Written by Fatal Dawn
You look to us, if only casually,
If not out of habit,
But time fades away gradually,
Another second departs, darts,
Another minute moves before you can grasp it,
Another hour is gone before you can grab it.
Another day and another gripe,
Another dream gone down the pipes,
Another dream torn down and dismantled,
All we can do is watch from the mantle.
You hang us up, place us on stands,
Move to the motion of our hands,
And like an hourglass’s precious sands,
The reliable and hard-working grinder,
We’re only a physical reminder,
Of incorporeal things you can’t understand.
Time is forever fleeting. Where does it go?
Ebb and flow – into memories deleting,
(And you’re late for another meeting).
An empty and illusionary thing,
Time is no measure of feeling.
We hang from your decaying ceiling,
We are The Watchers. We are king.
To you we are nothing,
To you we are everything,
We are The Watchers,
And WE ARE KING.
An empty and illusionary thing,
Time is no measure of feeling.
We hang from your decaying ceiling,
We are The Watchers. We are king.
To you we are nothing,
To you we are everything,
We are The Watchers,
And WE ARE KING.
Time is no measure of feeling.
We hang from your decaying ceiling,
We are The Watchers. We are king.
To you we are nothing,
To you we are everything,
We are The Watchers,
And WE ARE KING.
An empty and illusionary thing,
Time is no measure of feeling.
We hang from your decaying ceiling,
We are The Watchers. We are king.
To you we are nothing,
To you we are everything,
We are The Watchers,
And WE ARE KING.
You task us with your intentions,
Behind these heavy and thick walls,
You whisper secrets and indiscretions,
Things we dare not mention,
Said against your fellow man, but we hear it all.
You wind us up, make us ring,
Just so you can’t miss the ‘important’ things.
P.M. means [Post-Mortem] means unfulfilled time,
A.M. means [Anxious Meditation], obsessive contemplation,
Endless preoccupation, fixation on the daily grit and grime,
Fear of uncategorized time leads to overcompensation.
Present time is most comfortable, yet you scramble,
Chasing and regretting another gamble,
Human beings are confused jitterbugs with no sensation.
Digital or analog,
You know of our kind,
Another moment in time to add to your catalog,
Another moment you’d like to rewind,
We aren’t here to dictate but to remind.
What’s on the agenda today?
Development or decay? Delight or dismay?
Will there be change or more of the same?
Life for us is a numbers display,
A quarter, half-past… [You know the spiel]
We don’t care what you think or how you feel,
To us your concerns are not even real.
What we represent is infinite, you’re trifling,
You’re lack of precognition is pretty stifling,
Knowledge is power, power is the key,
If only you could picture what we see,
You’d make more of your time instead of idling.
Intimate universal knowledge of the infinites,
You think time flies, but we know speed limits,
Galaxies surround you, but priorities cloud you.
If you could picture in your wildest dreams,
Nebulas, prisms, cosmic systems,
Oceans of stars, interstellar schisms,
Intricate temporal and spatial schemes,
Time is no measure of feeling,
Time is no measure of being,
Time can never be gained;
It can’t be courted or swain,
Any attempts to save it are in vain,
Seconds, minutes, and even hours wane,
Memories recede, emotions bleed,
Every passing hour plants a new seed,
Once-important things fade into the grain.
We’re merely the physical reminder,
The reliable grinder, a daily greeting,
Ebb and flow – into memories deleting,
Time is forever fleeting.
Your kind watches us and we watch YOU.
Yet you still don’t understand our point of view…
It seems you’re still thinking about that noon meeting.
It is in 5 minutes.
Written by Fatal Dawn
