The real clock, it is
On the wrist of the time
A token of today's suffer,
It starts with the day
But moves round the clock,
It lives in the circles,
A symbol of beginning
A symbol of zeal.
It floats through dim light,
It floats through hazy outline
It floats through whole the life,
With a never-ending morning.
On the wrist of the time
A token of today's suffer,
It starts with the day
But moves round the clock,
It lives in the circles,
A symbol of beginning
A symbol of zeal.
It floats through dim light,
It floats through hazy outline
It floats through whole the life,
With a never-ending morning.
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