When The Clock Stops Poem by Ace Of Black Hearts

Tic toc thin as air.
With so little of words how do we compare.
Voices in our head.
A short little shelf life then its dead.
Reproduction of the flawless.
The black crows music setting the tone.
Going caw, caw.
Going caw, caw.
Mono in a single ear.
Just listen to colors vibration.
Waves traveling great distance.
Could it really be possible.
On outside the window looking in.
Wanting so bad to be single part of it.
Ingesting, and digesting.
With bounds and leaps will we ever reach the fullness of understanding?
Deprived of all eloquence.
How can we dance in the pouring rain, if we never learned how?
Painting a whole life a single stroke at a time.
All the while knowing not single rhythm or rhyme.
All the more hating all this black and white.
Leave me not empty nor happy.
A satisfied heart abandon for that which not known.
Nothing more powerful then whispers all on there own.
Fitting into dream bigger then me.
Trying to explain a catastrophe with the writings on my wall.
Just another scribble of imperfection.
Guess the hype was just not good enough.
Even upon the view of this great blue bay.
Sitting ones life away.
A prisoner in an invisible cage.
The bars are really there.
And with escape being so intimate.
Let me ask you one last question.
Oh can you handle it, oh can you handle it.
Drowning in a water fountain that is all dried up.
Screaming help me in bitter agony.
Frozen in a moment of wishing waking thoughts.
And that when this clock will stop.