Father Time

Here's hoping they are holy
The day they can
Squeeze me into their tight schedules
What busy little bastards
Diamond rings grip frantic fingers

A speaking, drooling animal
Left us here to play a while
He warned us not to leave
Then turned his noisy dial
Scratch marks on the danger door
Turn the knob and he will come
Like darkness follows a setting sun

Cry for blood
Cry for a decent sleep
Hoping the coward in the checkered shirt
Will stop and think
And keep them safe

Here he comes again
Here he comes again

Homes rip, then come apart
Fathers check empty beds
Metallic streaks of Hell and rust
Paint the skies with dread
Writing their favorite names in the mud
With twigs scattered across the ground
Amidst the dust
Hope for us
Is seeming very slim

Cry for blood
Cry for a decent sleep
Hoping the coward in the checkered shirt
Will stop and think
And keep them safe
Cry for blood
Cry for a decent sleep
Maybe he will
Stop and think

Cry for blood
Cry for a decent sleep
Knowing the coward
Probably left him in the cold
But maybe he will
Show us where to look