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The broken clock is a comfort
It helps me sleep tonight
Maybe it can start tomorrow
From stealing all my time
In this moment, it is my one prerogative to fall into dreams.
But how can I?
With these memories that haunt me. I see their faces, I hear their voices, but I will never see them again.
I'm not as slick as I appear... I am just... Troubled... Depressed... Nothing makes me happy anymore. Every night when I imagine the clock striking 3 am (but it cannot! I have smashed all the clocks in my house, out of anger... Out of rage!) I will myself to cry. But I cannot cry. There are no tears left for me now.
And I am here still waiting
Though I still have my doubts
I am damaged at best
Like you've already figured out
I've been waiting for you. For what feels like eternity. Again, I cannot be certain how much time has passed, for I have broken all the clocks in my house, and all clocks I have come in contact with. But if it was necessary for me to guess how much time has passed since I have gazed at your beautiful, black, hard shell, I would guesstimate at least ten minutes. Ten, long, agonizingly hard minutes.
I'm falling apart
I'm barley breathing
With a broken heart
That's still beating
When you leave me, I feel like I'm falling apart, like I'm barely breathing. And my broken heart, it's still beating.
In the pain
There is healing
In your name
I find meaning
And yet, the pain makes me stronger. In fact, what doesn't kill me... makes me stronger. The more hate I feel for you, the more complete I feel. For is not the greatest thing I've ever learned is to hate and be heated? For I am like Iron Man in his suit and you are Killian the foul-hearted gentleman in Iron Man 3. Nothing makes me quote obscure pop culture references like you. They may not be obscure to you, but I never leave since I cannot see movies as I can never get the times straight. And I find it very difficult to view since I only have one eye, and cannot cope with this new fad in film viewing: 3D movies.
Sometimes, when I'm alone, like now, and I feel myself waning, I whisper your name into the darkness. And it is though, again, my life has meaning.
Nothing tastes sweeter on my tongue... than your name.
So I'm holding on
I'm holding on
I'm holding on
I'm barely holding on to you
Sometimes, I feel like you aren't there when I'm holding you. But I cannot dwell on that, because holding on to you is the only reason I still hold on...
… To life...
The broken locks were a warning
You got inside my head
I tried my best to be guarded
I'm an open book instead
I think, sometimes. You're the only reason I haven't gone mad feral. When I am without you, for too long, I find myself foaming at the mouth, stab happy and empty inside. I never intended to depend this much on one other person. Yet, I would not change a thing about how I feel about you, how much I absolutely loathe you.
It's my hate for you that keeps me alive.
You can always see through me. I never have to be anyone else around you. And even though I know you hate me for who I am with every fiber of your insignificant being, I know that we were made for each other.
You are the only one who stops the ticking in my head.
And I still see your reflection
Inside of my eyes
That are looking for purpose
They're still looking for life
Even though you are not here, I can see you when I close my eyes. O cruel fate! How long does eleven minutes stretch on when I am not beside you! And how short is eleven hours when I am next to you! It is but a wink, my friend, for I only possess one eye. Its neighboring socket is as damaged as my own, dark soul.
Though you are but one other soul; when you visit my dwelling, it becomes a full house. We're two of a kind, a pair as it were. As though our suits have been cut from the same cloth. I am a jack of all trades, and you are the diamond of my life.
(Nice use of metaphor.)
I'm falling apart
I'm barely breathing
With a broken heart
That's still beating
Despite your close proximity... physically. Emotionally... I feel that you are drifting. Though we have literally just spent approximately two hours lovemaking, for I do not know the official time, as again, there are no clocks in my household. I do not think you were actually present... You do not seem very into the actions of my body.
However, I will pretend my heart is not yet broken, if it means yet but another approximate minute or two with you. Again, there are no working clocks in my home, so that was just a guesstimation.
Sometimes even a broken clock... can be a comfort.
I'm hanging on another day
Just to see what you will throw my way
And I'm hanging on to the words you say
You said that I will be okay
When I'm with you, I feel as though the lyrics of life sometimes skip ahead. As though sometimes, I think I am at one part of life's song, but really, I am to the bridge. And even though you make my life pass so quickly before my eye, for again, I have but one eye, and even though I feel your affections for me waning, I will keep hanging on. For tomorrow, when the green sun rises in the east, perhaps your love too will rise. Green... and... verdant... as though it was in the golden days, when our hate was new.
Sometimes, you say things that make me have hope. That maybe things will be okay. You do not specify how long things will take, but that is okay for I lack an internal clock just as much as I lack external ones. But again, I will stay by your side, for what could be an inordinate amount of time, for again, I do not have any clocks.
Broken lights on the freeway
Left me here alone
I may have lost my way now
I haven't forgotten my way home
It may have possibly been thirteen minutes now since you have left the slightly damp sheets of our lovemaking, and it was quite an arousing session if I do say so myself. It may have lasted the longest yet, but again, I have no real way of knowing this, for each clock is broken. But then again, you never complain about my lack of clocks or my lovemaking.
I recall our first date, it was a terrible first date, at a terrible chain restaurant... called Applebees. My hatred for Applebees knows no bounds. How dare their appetizers be so cheap, and their food be so delicious! How dare their clientele be so attractive, their staff so friendly, their health codes so non-violated. I was both flattered and aroused by your clear disregard for my feelings, O lover. So much, so I just left, I just left the Applebees... And I lost my way.
And you, my one true hate, followed me, picked me up, and took me home. It turned out, I had not forgotten the way home, I had only momentarily blacked out, due to the overwhelming amount of blood that had rushed to my penis upon entering Applebees. Again, however, I have no real way of knowing how long my penis was engorged with blood in the state of an Appleboner, since I do not possess any concept of natural time.
I'm falling apart
I'm barely breathing
With a broken heart
That's still beating
It may have been as long as fifteen minutes now, since you have left my arm for the cold embrace of the shower stall. Or maybe it has been a year, months, days, or two seconds. Again, I have no real way of knowing since I do not possess any concept of time or any mechanical device from which to tell it. And I only possess but one eye for which to watch the passing of the seasons.
Oh Droog, for it is you, and not Sn0wman, which I have been talking about. You add such sparkle to my dreary life, like the diamond for which you were named. Old sport, you are my own personal diamond. And I hope that you too, will become my own personal device from which I tell the time. For you do not count a year of your life by the seconds, but by the smells, tears, and cups of coffee. But I hope to count them by the wrinkles on our faces. But I have no idea how a carapace ages. Do we lose parts of our shell? Do we whither? Or do we merely fall over dead one day?
No matter what it is, I hope to discover it with you.
Sometimes I fear pledging the rest of my life to you. It may be an extremely short while, for I have no way of knowing how close to death I actually am. Perhaps that is why you've grown distant... Am I an old man, Droog? Am I an Old Sport?
Perhaps this is why I reminisce. Is that not all we can do? Beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.