The Clock

The clock strikes midnight
The stink of impending death
Hangs over our heads
As unstoppable as the sunrise
There is nothing we can do
So we sit and watch as love decays
We gave up long before
Death's cold fingers began reaching
Clawing at our hearts
We gave up before we even had the chance to fight
In some twisted way
We justify it all to ourselves
We tell each other
It all happens for a reason
And that every cloud has a silver lining
But sometimes the lining is dog-shit brown
And the reason does not exist
We keep searching for answers
Writing to Dear Abbey and Oprah
We seek refuge in love letters to dear old whiskey
Drinking up the perfume of intoxication
But we can never quite escape the harsh light of morning
Or the pain of an afternoon hang-over
So ask me all your questions
I'll tell you only lies
Why do you come here
Under a darkened sky?
The rain mixes with our tears
And our screams mingle with the wind
Stop wringing your hands
Fretting over things you cannot change
The clock strikes again
Another moment gone
Lost to the night
Like each of us.