When I think of time I feel sick
It passes by so fast and unnoticed
It surrounds me like a transparent prison
It surprises me when weeks become months
And years become decades
I wake up sweating
I see the end of my life in a blurred vision
I imagine where my parents were at my age
What was the year, how old I was
I see them getting old
I cry in silence
The clock is ticking
And the clocksmith will keep it that way
He never fails

For Michael McQuarrie

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