Clockwork

That Mr. Bob looked all over town,
But he won't find me now for I'm off coastward bound.
And I'm trading the smog for some fresh salt sea air
And he'll never catch on that I'm there.

I was once his apprentice, in the clock-making trade,
And the miser made me work for every penny of my wage.
Till he found he could replace me with a machine,
And he threw me right out on the street.

I'm not the type who would grovel and pray
That he deign to recant and permit to stay,
So I cursed him and left and I solemnly swore that he'd pay.

Now Mr. Bob has very poor eyes,
And he never did see me when he left work at night.
And once in a while he would forget to check
That his workshop back window was closed.

No I'm not a burglar and I'm no vandal nor.
The old man had to suffer, but I wanted something more:
I wanted him to feel it and know it was me,
And I knew that his clocks were the key.

I sat in his workshop, my thoughts running wild,
Then it suddenly hit me, and I looked up and I smiled
For I knew that I'd have him and I knew that I'd do it in style.

I tell you that clockwork's a powerful thing;
There's a terrible strength in those tightly wound springs.
And a gentleman's pocket watch stays by his heart,
And that's where the damage can start.

Now I'm no machine but I can work when I choose,
With hands good as any when I've something to prove.
So I stayed up all night among cogs, springs and screws,
And I didn't stop till I was through.

I rigged up a watch to do more than just chime ,
And I didn't baulk once at the depth of my crime -
A most perfect invention that still kept immaculate time.

The next week a young man stopped by in the shop,
Took a shine to a timepiece and paid on the spot.
He wound it, and wore it, and at 6 on the dot
He came to a messy and permanent stop.

Now Mr. Bob's got blood on his hands,
And he barely made bail, he's a ruined man,
And surely he knows who his downfall was planned by,

It's all worked out like clockwork.

Lost Without Hope

Saturday  the thirtieth of July, the patients’ passing seizures are becoming more pronounced by the day; the under-lying cause, seems to be a slow and progressive decay.; if I don’t find a cure, I fear that my patient must surely fade away, but I swear, I’ll apply my science. It’s for the cause, breaking no defiance. I’ll deliver her, from this melody, she’ll dance again, and I’ll never forget, when our first recording, and she faced me, and her eyes were gleaming, in the moonlight, and she spoke so sweetly “Don’t let me go my darling, hold me safely till the morning. Promise when the lights are fading. You’ll save me.”.

 

Sunday, the thirty-first of July,  her worrying symptom has reared it’s  head week. She’s been bed-bound for a month, and now the patient is no longer able to speak. She tries to utter sounds, but the grip of the illness is strong and the patient is weak. On the bed, in a cold sweat, like a corpse, but she’ll live yet; when I find the cure; I can surely promise; she’ll laugh again, like she did; on our wedding day; when we danced, and laughed the night away, and now I can hear her say “ Don’t let me go my darling, hold me safely till the morning, promise when the lights are fading, you’ll save me”

 

Monday, the first of August, the patient no longer response to stimuli of any kind. She’s now my only charge. I cloth her and feed her, and nightly I read by her side. For though she’s paralyzed. I know that inside there still is a functioning mind. Neatly laid, on the bed-sheet, I can still hear her fading heartbeat, I’ll keep her stable,  and continue my research; she’ll smile again, and I must, bring her back to me, in her eyes I can see the gleam. In my mind I can hear her breathing.

 

Tuesday, the second of August, my latest apparatus is the only thing keeping her alive. I had to stop her heart, the mechanical replacement will ensure the other organs can survive. Her body is destroyed, but what nature has neglected the fruit of modern science shall provide, and I’ve broken every code of practice, but for my love, I’d shift the planets’ axis; she’ll return to me, when she’s been repaired, she’ll live again, and I swear, I can see the gleam, in her eyes,  amidst the new machines, and at night, I can hear her whisper “Don’t let me go my darling, hold me safely till the morning, promise when the lights are fading, you’ll save me”