Zero time left on the clock, hands have ticked out the day.
Walked the road round route, held strong long sang my song.
Tide washed up treasures from the dark deeps, waves and spray.
Sand ran through our fingers, palms hands, grab what we belong.
One jump to the song and take a puff on the bong.
Drink drug slug-slug bug down and in the fray.
Zero time left on the clock, hands have ticked out the day.
Mistakes where we learn, earn stripes, scars and go wrong.
Past swoops in and grabs our conscience, now is how to cope with those throngs.
Now where we are, drops of water on leaves and mown hay.
Zero time left on the clock, hands have ticked out the day.
Two tides per day and then the waves speak to us make us clay.
Masses whirl, twirl, time clasps us, kills us, loves us, makes us strong.
Walk down those back-country roads to no-where, everywhere, every day.
Tide washed up treasures from the dark deeps, waves and spray.
Zero time left on the clock, hands have ticked out the day.
Three takes to make the break, to cook the bake and string us all along.
The music takes us and then lets us play.
Zero time left on the clock, hands have ticked out the day.
Tide washed up treasures from the dark deeps, waves and spray.