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The Clockmaker

Words/Music © by Elizabeth Burnham

Crowds are gathered in the halls,
I can hear their voices swelling -
Voices raised in distant calls.
Do you know what tales they're telling?
Here I sit, amidst the strife,
Anger and confusion growing.
Do they wish to take my life?
End my grand schemes, all unknowing?

See them plot, see them plan,
Spill their blood, every man,
Tell me everything you know
This is how our trap will go.

That young vixen I can hear
Has with lies a net for fools made.
And my friend, that grand old man,
Meekly joins her garish charade.
They think that my claws are drawn,
Defenses down and all forgotten.
But just wait until the dawn -
Then these sleepers will awaken!

See them spy, see them scheme,
Is this all but a dream?
Yet I know that this is true
Everything I'm telling you.

Do you see what I have here
Spread out on the desk before me?
There is nothing we need fear
Though my old friends now abhor me.
The drawings of this strange device
Give a potent guide to follow.
Our lives shift twixt fire and ice,
And all our past esteem rings hollow.

Take this cog and this gear,
Lay them neatly in here.
Every life is just the same,
Drawn like moth unto the flame.

Every hope and every scheme,
It is nothing but a dream.
Yet I know this pattern's true,
Just as I am telling you.

Look! It's a clock.