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Spoken version
A recorded reading of “The Clock with No Hands”. If the player does not load, use the original audio source.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Stop. The hands are gone, the gears still spin, the numbers sit but never bend. A clock that ticks but won’t progress— a circle locked in its own steps. The world still moves, the bells still chime, but time itself has lost the time. The gears still turn, the wheels still spin— yet nothing starts, and nothing ends. Did the world freeze still? Did the hands slip fast? Did I step too late, or did I fade too fast? The hands are gone, the gears still spin, but time won’t start again. Am I too late? Am I too soon? Or did I miss the afternoon? They wait for time to move at last, to turn, to tick, to bring the past. But in the glass, where hands once waved, there’s only echoes, cold and vague. A shadow’s shape, a missing chime, a frozen pulse of hollow time. I check the face, I count the spins, but nothing starts, and nothing ends. The hands are gone, the gears still spin, but time won’t start again. Am I too late? Am I too soon? Or did I miss the afternoon? Tick. Tock. Tick. …Stop.
Instructional lyrics
[Intro: A soft, relentless ticking sound. A low hum. A voice speaks, slow, steady, like a clock announcing its own paradox.] Tick. Tock. Tick. Stop. [Verse 1: The bassline enters—steady, looping, hypnotic. Piano chords hit like seconds falling apart.] The hands are gone, the gears still spin, the numbers sit but never bend. A clock that ticks but won’t progress— a circle locked in its own steps. The world still moves, the bells still chime, but time itself has lost the time. The gears still turn, the wheels still spin— yet nothing starts, and nothing ends. [Pre-Chorus: The tempo slows slightly, harmonies whispering like voices from another time.] Did the world freeze still? Did the hands slip fast? Did I step too late, or did I fade too fast? [Chorus: Theatrical, swirling harmonies like a clock winding up and breaking apart.] The hands are gone, the gears still spin, but time won’t start again. Am I too late? Am I too soon? Or did I miss the afternoon? [Instrumental Break: A warping, bending sound—notes stretched like time itself is unraveling. Distant echoes of bells that never chime.] [Verse 2: The rhythm kicks back in, slightly distorted, as if time is slipping further away.] They wait for time to move at last, to turn, to tick, to bring the past. But in the glass, where hands once waved, there’s only echoes, cold and vague. A shadow’s shape, a missing chime, a frozen pulse of hollow time. I check the face, I count the spins, but nothing starts, and nothing ends. [Final Chorus: More chaotic, more layered—time fully breaking down.] The hands are gone, the gears still spin, but time won’t start again. Am I too late? Am I too soon? Or did I miss the afternoon? [Outro: The ticking slows… stretches… reverses… then stops.]
Song info
Indie art-rock w/ playful yet eerie vibes. Offbeat groove, surreal spoken-word moments, bouncy bass, warped synths, theatrical harmonies. Psychedelic yet absurd, like a dream unraveling.
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