The Persistence of Memory

Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, stop
What was on bottom is now on top
I’m sitting here listening to her unearthly chants
While, out of my ears, comes marching the ants

Out of my mind and into the real
One by one, it’s all I can feel
Fading into the world around us two
I’m sitting and listening with nothing to do

Now it’s just her, and him, and I
Still looking for a truce or some kind of tie
I am the man; he is the machine
And she’s the grey that’s locked in between

Singing her many unearthly chants
While we are eaten by fire ants
What was on bottom is now on top
Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock, tick…

…stop.