60 Minute Slaves

We created a monster,

hung it upon the desolate walls of this house,

and fell slaves to it,

bow down to the hands of consistency. 

The alarms in our head are reigning control,

the ticks and tocks slashing the veil,

through rotation of the Earth, we fall flat. 

Disguised as an appointment, 

cloaked behind the sun dials,

the devil glares through the mechanics.

Sand beads fall through the hourglass,

and all falls through the cracks of the Earth. 

Hanging by the thread of the moment, 

ropes strung around our necks,

time pieces loom over us,

as a dark cloud in the night sky. 

In a future where the past and present have been summed up, 

a concoction of punch cards and calendars.

When all is dead,

blame the hour,

where apocalypses have come and gone,

something only the hands of time have told.