CLOCKWORK.

❂ FIRST CHILD.

VERSE ONE:
slipped across some sheets of paper, slipped across the floor
shifting with a weary luggage, sifting through my drawers
buckled some boots on, and buckled the door
reached for a magazine, with a face that looks like me on the cover of vogue

CHORUS:
every hour in every clock, stops midcry
waking in waiting rooms
wailings from the signs of first life,
wailing from waking, breaking out of their wombs
there's a mom being born with every first child, worldwide
even with mine

VERSE TWO:
changing from ballgowns to hospital gowns,
from ultra-bright mornings to ultrasounds
from 'never have i ever' to 'will i ever?'
from crying on your own to crying out loud
from tearing off pages of a crush when you were eight, to tearing your crushed heart further apart
mum's favourite person and dad's first 'i'm so proud'
i'm drifting away in a weightless cloud,
happy birthday to my little brother, whose secret base in hide and seek i never found

(CHORUS)

BRIDGE:
and once i get well, we'll go shouting at hell, "you tried yet again, but you failed"
drop me in the heavens, only then will i pray
if this was a game, i would've restarted It long ago
breeze like the wind, in a breeze in a blink
take a flight, betray time
tip a waiter, bid goodbye
work on the news channel, a nine to five
energy drained, lunch at workplace
oh how i wish to be normal again

(CHORUS)