Then the clock begun to turn,
Every day taking a different turn,
As though the bright moon,
Hanging in the sky, shone no more,
Ever more, never more,
Like molten lava,
Down the volcanoe valley..
The cracks ran through widely..
Widenning and widenning..
Each minute, a slow love death,
At the alter of betrayed vows,
In pain, in poverty and sickness,
Meant no more,
A still heart stolen,
By strangers in clawns,
