Will there be a warning
When the clock stops moving?
Will you have just sixty seconds?
Will you find it boring?
The churning of the ground, you know?
The howl of the hound
Is this girl forever young
Yet shriveled-up and round?
I change the hands of the master clock
Will there be a morning?
Is there such a thing as a day?
Will I wake up tomorrow
And see it walk away?
Does it sleep out under the ocean?
If disturbed, does it yell?
Does it visit other dawns
Or underneath a spell?
The seconds are under my control
And I don't ever want it to stop
Changing time in my head
It's so easy to do
Fast forward the present
It's so easy to do
Will there be a warning
When the clock stops moving?
Will you have just sixty seconds?
Will you find it boring?
Late night, upstairs
I was sitting in a chair
In charge of those machines
The function, the repair
I change the hands of the master clock
My eyes were on the screen
Of my own interest
It was a kaleidoscopic burst
Of geometric matrix
There were rows of lights
Set up there, threes and twos
Linking at different speeds
Colors, and hues
The seconds are under my control
And I don't ever want it to stop
Changing time in my head
It's so easy to do
Fast forward the present
It's so easy to do
Can't see 'cause I'm trippin'
On the yellow and blue
Holographic visions
When I'm sitting near you
