Hands of time rests,
Space freezes,
Mind falls into a coma,
and body in sudden soma.
You-- walking by for three seconds,
seems a decade--as I reckon.
It's like I'm always on call,
To be under your control
Where you always press pause,
And that! is probably the cause.
Yeah!--Maybe that's it.
Toying with me must be a treat.
I wish you'd pour grease
on this entwined tongue.
Confession is never a breeze,
And wounds WILL last long.
***Guess who owns those hands in the picture?****
