Timepiece ticking off the seconds of the hour
With industrial precision and needles pointing out
Counting out by movement all that was and all that is
With industrial precision and needles pointing out
Counting out by movement all that was and all that is
Somewhere there is somebody decaying underground
Cut off from the living - forgotten in the flesh
Quietly transforming - returning to the ash
Somewhere there is somebody remaining underground
Resisting the sterility and waiting for the end
Reaching out to infinity and searching for a God
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