So, this is for those of you who have seen Don't Hug Me, I'm Scared II. It's the song lyrics, but I decided to write a little of my own lyrics in. (Mine's in bold.) Enjoy~
Time is a tool you put on the wall,
Or wear it on your wrist.
The past is far behind us,
The future doesn’t exist.
Time is a ruler to measure the day,
It doesn’t go backwards, only one way.
Watch it go round like a merry-go-round,
Going so fast like a merry-go-round. . .
Time is old like Victorian times,
With cobbles and plague and speaking in rhymes,
With cobbles and chimneys––a simpler time,
With cobbles and sawdust and batteries and slime.
The tree that is old has circles inside,
The tree that is older has shriveled and died,
The apple that's fresh is ripe to the core,
But it rots overtime and it’s not anymore. . .
Time can be told by the moon or the sun,
But time flies fast when you’re having fun.
Time went new and got old like history,
Stuff from the past went into a mystery.
Time is now, the future anew,
Look at the wonderful things you can do.
Now you can see the importance of time,
It helps you make things, it keeps you in line.
Sunrise, sunset, night and day,
The changing seasons, the smell of hay.
Look at your hair grow––isn’t it strange?
How time makes your appearance change. . .
You look in the mirror, and time goes on,
And as it does––oh, there’s one––
No, some wrinkles appear on your face,
They spread up and down like olden lace.
Your skin droops as more wrinkles appear,
And then your bones begin to deter
–iorate, and your muscles diminish,
But wait, there’s more before we finish!
Your flesh starts to rot and fall to the floor,
Your senses fail––they won’t work anymore.
When will it end? Can you get out?
The fear that rises makes you shout:
“Dear God, make it stop!”
It’s out of my hands, I’m only a clock.
Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll be fine!
But eventually everyone runs out of time. . .