long ago in a little home...hidden chains in the walls...a floor covered in regret... and yet our skin clockthrough the ageswhat is this thingan endless clock tears falling on the blood... so many regrets so many...is ending it was a home of terror...the old old story...an endless clock going on and onis ending if you only knew the story...basement of darkness...the endless cycle and yet our skin clocktorn clothes and bruised lips...going on and onthis thing we call timewhat is this thingthis thing we call timethrough the agesthe endless cycle a small child was crying...