Listen to this song here
Verse 1
High on the spine of the ancient wood,
Where the moss has seized what the clock understood.
A sapphire shadow, a shifting gray,
Watches the hours that refuse to sway.
Moonlight bleeds silver on gears of brass,
Reflected deep in the fractured glass.
He is the silence that follows the strike,
A perfect machine in the endless night.
Pre-Chorus
The fog is his breath, the rust is his sign,
A whisper of maroon on the blue-gray line.
He measures the moment, the tension he keeps,
While the forest below is tangled in sleeps.
Chorus
Oh, the Clockwork Glare!
Two eyes of burning, molten gold.
He doesn’t count the seconds, he counts the souls.
A Steampunk Spectre on a sky of blue,
With metal wings where the dream slips through.
He holds the key, he turns the lock,
The silent sentinel of the ticking clock!
Verse 2
The tiny butterflies, silver and frail,
Dance in the vapor beneath his veil.
A compass eye on his forehead set,
He knows the coordinates of what you regret.
The deep blue velvet of the cosmic swirl,
Just a backdrop for the cat of the world.
He’s not a protector, nor purely a threat,
He’s the moment you haven’t lived yet.
Pre-Chorus
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The copper pipes wrap around his crown,
Pulling the moonlight to stream right down.
He gathers the whispers and files the screams,
The menacing architect of your darkest dreams.
Chorus
Oh, the Clockwork Glare!
Two eyes of burning, molten gold.
He doesn’t count the seconds, he counts the souls.
A Steampunk Spectre on a sky of blue,
With metal wings where the dream slips through.
He holds the key, he turns the lock,
The silent sentinel of the ticking clock!
Bridge
He sees the color you cannot name,
The blue that’s fueled by the fire of shame.
The gold in his vision, fragmented and deep,
A mirror to secrets the forest must keep.
Outro
The clockwork glare…
The ticking, ticking…
The Crazymad Writer Writes Again 