|
There was a young boy in a clock yard |
|
Building himself from the pieces he found |
|
Screwing on what's been left on the ground |
|
Hoping to finish enough one day to leave |
|
The years flew by and some gears fell off |
|
Fears and rust and tears he doffed |
|
And bravely searched, while parts he scoffed, but soon he found-- |
|
There was a young man in a clock yard |
|
Building himself from the pieces he found |
|
Screwing on what's been left on the ground |
|
Hoping to finish enough one day to leave |
|
The years flew by and some gears fell off |
|
Fears and rust and tears he doffed |
|
And bravely searched, while parts he scoffed, but soon he found-- |
|
There was a grown man in a clock yard |
|
Building himself from the pieces he found |
|
Screwing on what's been left on the ground |
|
Hoping to finish enough one day to lead |
|
He thought to himself, "If I wait too long |
|
To find the pieces I need, then my chance might be gone |
|
What I need might be outside the gate |
|
But I will never know, if I continue to wait." |
|
And then he had a dream: |
|
An old man cried in a clock yard, |
|
Giving up on the scrap that he found on the ground, |
|
"I can't build myself from this scrap all around!" |
|
The man woke up and said, "I must leave. |
|
I must leave. |
|
I must leave. |
|
I must leave." |