The struggle we thought would be forever
Slowly turns into past memories
Just like it has been written.
Flowers die, and more are produced.
Just like the struggle,
The happy times we wished would stay
Slowly turn into past memories,
Sucking the sweetness from thy heart
But the memories remain installed.
Tick-tock,
The master mind behind it all calls.
Every call records a bad or good luck,
Every call brings joy or sadness
It was a precious time that shouldn’t be wasted.
Every sound the master mind makes
Unlocks a memory
We can imagine, but can’t tell our story.
Sometimes, we longed for peace but saw chaos.
Other times, we longed for pain but saw joy.
A sound that never ceases to stop
Generation unto generation,
The ticking sound remains still,
Sending out an unbroken aura
With a diminishing authority.
The mastermind of all
Ruthlessly, he controls the charge of life,
Turning happy moments into memories,
And thought moments into experience.
An “I” no longer “can”...
A baby, no longer a baby.
A child, no longer a child.
An adult, no longer an adult.
All existence slowly dissolves
With just a single ding-ding.
The more we lose, we also gain
A blessing in a curse is what rules us,
A sound that unlocks our path.
A sound that shouldn't be wasted,
A sound that holds the past and present.
The master mind saw the master end
There is a Master Mind behind the ticks.
