It's almost time to go,
The hand is almost at the I,
but i suppose it is stuck on me,
waiting for me to pass by,
Maybe the battery is dead,
Maybe the light is green, not red,
maybe to understand you must travel,
maybe traveling is step by step,
I almost had a thought,
a thought that I could break that clock,
only when the hand should point at I,
should I not think of ways to die,
My smile, my heart, a pathway is open,
that door that used to make the grandfather tick,
as brilliant as each step on this trail,
Should never had gone thinking,
when the clock had screamed "well",
Although, i should thank me,
for Nothing would have happened,
nothing indeed, had i not walked, or talked,
and still had it in me, to continue to breathe,
Why, The steps have fallen, and the wounds are peeled,
I have passed by, clinging to ties,
and as it is fixed, and it is snowing,
I have not stopped, and time is not broken.
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