Can you always tell the time that a clock died?
Tell me really now, how do you know?
When the outline on the floor is two skinny hands and cogs that stopped their turning.
With no likeness to a corpse, he simply held his horse until the time slipped through
Oh if no one's truly gone, why do I feel so blue?

Are we supposed to be like ghosts?
To hanground under street lamp posts?
A husk of all that could've been
I couldn't wish for anything
Was I supposed to take that joke?
Believe every word he wrote?
But when I get out of this cold heaven knows if it was ever true?
I don't think i could be just friends with you