He keeps on moving his moustache Gets you fussy, makes you rush He’s got no legs but he walks He’s got no mouth but talks Tick tack, click clack He pulls a trigger, pulls it back My time, your time is under attack We run on a circle track
A bossy three-handed man Who gives me a triple slap in my face Years of tension, a second of slack He is so tiny but hard to embrace
From the top of the world he shows you No respect, don’t regret. We’re screwed! If time is gold, we are broke for good Hopeless beggars, dance to this beatific flute!
By towers supported On a human wrist resorting There’s no word “retired” for the soldier with the shoulder straps Phlegmatic eyes dilated, Trickin’ tick-tacktics underrated Time to eat, time to sleep Time to go back to your soil crib
Oh what a mechanical miracle Global dictator, massive superior Like a winding toy that sits at the porch This bull-headed boy is a watchman on the life-time verge
Striking, beating, sweeping our lives away The more we struggle, the more we lose our precious days Hearts are swinging to the rhythm of imminence Should we never grab a tail of what we cannot own? Our time is a snail, running faster than any wind can blow