It\'s an affair,
One of the clock.
That ticks in beat,
With my nimble stride.
Could it be the start,
Or perhaps the end.
This ring is familiar,
Is it already twelve?
I ask standing still,
Above yet also below.
With eyes so curious,
But somehow closed.
A wicked pulse,
Inside my ear.
That moves my feet,
One only I can feel.
In temptation and fear,
Of all those near.