so many regrets so many...the endless cycle what is this thinga small child was crying...through the agesthrough the agesbasement of darkness...this thing we call timewhat is this thingan endless clock an endless clock going on and onis ending torn clothes and bruised lips...and yet our skin clockthe endless cycle long ago in a little home...a floor covered in regret... going on and onhidden chains in the walls...is ending it was a home of terror...this thing we call timeand yet our skin clockif you only knew the story...tears falling on the blood... the old old story...