BING, BONG, BING, BONG,
The clock hand strokes another number
The beautiful noise like the Liberty Bell.
The man beside me covers his ears
A lady leaves the room
I listen to it's sad song
Mourning the pass of another hour
The Grandfather smells of old varnish
It's wood frame cracks at the edges
The painted hands chip as they pass fading roman numerals
It creaks as it's brass pendulum moves
From side, to side
BING, BONG, BING, BONG,
The clock hand strokes another number
The beautiful noise like the Liberty Bell.
