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Time is a tool you can put on the wall
Or wear it on your wrist
The past is far behind us
The future doesn't exist
Oh
What's the time?
It's quarter to nine
Time to have a bath
What do you mean? We're already clean
Scrub, scrub, scrub 'til the water's brown
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
It's out of my hands, I'm only a clock.
Don't worry, I'm sure you'll be fine.
But eventually- everybody runs out of time.
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A MORTAL,
WHAT DOES HE GET IN THE END?
WHAT DOES A MORTAL FINALLY GET?
GLAZE POURED ON HIS HEAD,
LIME ON TOP OF HIS SKULL.
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"Oho!" said the pot to the kettle;
"You are dirty and ugly and black!
Sure no one would think you were metal,
Except when you're given a crack."

"Not so! not so!" kettle said to the pot;
"'Tis your own dirty image you see;
For I am so clean – without blemish or blot –
That your blackness is mirrored in me."
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