There's a clock that beats backwards upon this wall,
against floral patterned wallpaper from years gone by,
like the blood that flows in reverse through my veins
(rising, when it should instead fall).
A mirror is keeping me in time
as my frets tap dance to irregular signatures.
There's a clock that beats backwards upon this wall,
these four strings cannot be told otherwise.
The clock that beats backwards upon this wall
moves these fingers that conspire to preform
what the heart and soul composed in mind.
A mirror is keeping me in time
while my fingers lick the gauged steel strings.
Notes and melody fall around my feet
(There's a clock that beats backwards upon this wall)
And rhythm is my deadly weapon
(A mirror is keeping me in time)
There's a clock that beats backwards upon this wall,
A mirror is keeping me in time.
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