Tic tic tock. Around goes the winding clock.
You know time is of the utmost essence.
It’s every man’s walk.

From morning twelve to evening twelve o’clock,
you detect Time’s unrelenting presence.
Tic tic tock. Around goes the winding clock.

We may awe at forceful Time, sit and gawk.
Or fight inevitable senescence.
But we know, it’s every man’s walk.

Time can write our whole life in sidewalk chalk. 
Time knows their infinite quintessence.
Tic tic tock. Around goes the winding clock.

Time seems to hunt us like a dogged hawk,
until we have seen it’s omnipresence.
It’s every man’s walk.

Time is everyone’s ultimate roadblock.
We feel it much before adolescence.
Tic tic tock. Around goes the winding clock.
It’s every man’s walk.