Your heartbeat is racing
As you pace up the stairs,
Hoping the cogs will start turning
In your brain's machine.
You've promised them gold
And original creations
But what good are ideas
Without an actual thought?
Time is flying
And you're still on flat ground;
Not a brick laid under you,
Just an empire of clouds.
The deadline's a lurching train,
And you're standing in the tracks.
If you don't feed the lions,
They'll turn on you and attack.
There is no sound
In your confinement of four walls.
Yet panic echoes sharply
In the depths of your chest.
Intuition will betray you
If it fogs up your head.
Your bright mind is dimmed
By the weight of the outcome.
Time is flying
And you're still on flat ground;
Not a brick laid under you,
Just an empire of clouds.
The deadline's a lurching train,
And you're standing in the tracks.
If you don't feed the lions,
They'll turn on you and attack.
