The Clock Is
On the wings of
a butterfly, will you fly me away?
Back home to you, where I promise Iíll stay.
I know it is hard, but please understand,
I canít go on living, upon this cold land.
Something is wrong here, somethingís not right.
I walk past the people, and they seem very
Yet they laugh, and they whisper,
With their eyes of the night,
Theyíll continue to live, never seeing the
What is it they see? I feel somewhat defaced.
That they canít look upon me, with a smile on
Whatís wrong with me, Father, that I feel so
Why do they think, that Iím such a disgrace?
What can I do, Lord, to stop all this pain?
It was never my choice to walk down this lane.
I did not choose, you chose it for me.
You sent me down here, to help ease their pain.
But the looks on their faces, as they look down
Tell me I am unwanted, as they cease to see,
I hold the answers; I am the key.
Iíve never felt right; Iím still not accepted,
I held my hand out, but it was only rejected.
Forever they are lost, they go unprotected.
As I watch them walk past, that man on the
Not looking to see, he doesnít have feet.
He holds out his cup, as I hear him say,
But they try to avoid him, as though heís
The children seem lost, with their looks of
Where are their parents? Why donít they care?
The children left crying, their hearts open and
I gather them up, and we kneel down in prayer.
Father, why did you send me, to feel all this
Thereís nothing I can do, thereís too much
Soon theyíll be running, while they cry out in
The clock is now ticking, their time coming, is
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Art used with permission of
"Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word"
Sequenced By Jack Hall
Used With Permission