My Footsteps Sound Like a Ticking Clock

My footsteps sound like a ticking clock

Every step progress in my endless walk

Ducking under the hour hand as it ticks by

Running along the face of time's short drive

I bob and weave and roll but the minute hand marches

Pushing me towards 12

Pulling me from 12

Away or towards my destiny;

Written in Parchment.

You see we live on a clock that controls all fate

Not in the sense of free will but in the sense of dates

The battery won't run out, the fuse won't fry

The clock we base our clocks on won't ever die

We can push and shove,

We can eat well and take drugs,

We can live it up in mansions,

We can live it down in slums.

We can enjoy the time we have

Or we can keep trying to run.

You can fight against fate and you can fight against hands,

But the thing we call time is the one who commands.