One day I decided I should write a song about an inanimate object. I looked around my living room and spied the Paxil clock. This was a bit of pharmaceutical swag my mother thought would be funny decor. The funniest thing about it was that it was improperly constructed. The true 12 was actually at 9 (meaning the hands would line up at 9:45, which does not happen on a regular clock). Furthermore, that means that for most of the day, the hour hand was a bit further than it should have been, so you could never quite tell what time it is. Very disconcerting. Horatia means 'timekeeper,' by the way.
Written 26 February 2006.
lyrics
I look into your face
and I'm not sure what I see
is there some place I should be at now
or an appointment to keep?
You get me so confused
when all I want to know
is should we go on tocking?
or is it time for me to go?
You hold your hand
up to meet the other one
and swing around
to hit me with the other one
You're always stuck in the present
though you always forge ahead
you never seem to notice when
the past comes around again
You hold your hands
up in front of your face
doing everything you can
to keep me away
I wish I could take you back
to a time before
I invested so much of you in you
but I can't remember the store
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