Mark

I feel the ticking from hours
As an untenable crash
Three gold blades knife going around
To define the moment incessantly

The hands are the best trinity
Symbolic concentric
Deploying harmonically

One its own time
One its own time

Between a tick and a waiting
The whistling cold wind
Seems to be included
Inside the pulse of time

The clock is no more on the wall
The whiteness of death hunts me
The sharp mark of its absence scream
Past is like the future
It seems to telling me

I feel the ticking from hours
As an untenable crash
Three gold blades knife going around
To define the moment incessantly

The hands are the best trinity
Symbolic, concentric
Deploying harmonically

One its own time
One its own time



Credits
Writer(s): Francesco Azzirri
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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