Crime Time

CRIME TIME

Oh what a torturous rhythm tick tock
An instrument of pain is the prison clock
Tell me why do you march so agonizingly slow
Why don't you hurry so that I finally may go?
I know my fate and I know my crime
This time I spend waiting is my dying time
Your oddly paired hands reach to signal my demise
And your expression is unchanging not like men's lives
Oh how I've wished you could be turned back
'Cause guilt tears at my heart more than any attack
Your unsympathetic face stares at me, but I will not cry
Even if ancient tradition demands an eye for an eye
But one day my friend, just like times long ago
You won't be needed and people won't need to know
A peace will descend the great rush will subside
You will be beaten and no tears will be cried
But I know that I'm guilty it was proved beyond doubt
Aah! The hangman is waiting; this is where I clock out.