Underneath the corridor where sound is buried deep
A clock is ever ticking with a time that doesn’t keep
The rhythm like a serenade of s and o and s
The chime it tries to offer is a chorus of distress

Even high above it where the crows have gone away
The stars become the vultures and they’re hungry for today
Nobody seems to notice and perhaps they never did
And so we never see the falling feathers we’re amid

Here within the corridor we never choose to leave
Composed of all the promises we never could achieve
We paint the bricks and mortar with a picture of a sun
And try to start a garden for the things we’ve never done

Far away from everything that fell below the ground
Are pictures relegated to a world we never found
With images so faded that nobody can recall
Exactly what they were before we chose to lose them all

Here within a corridor where time was left to crawl
We, the dead and dying, pray to vultures in a never-ending hall