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The Clockwork Project
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The Run
The run of the mill,
is the will of the stream.
Floating like logs on the waves of our dreams.
Chasing the chase,
velocity child.
Scared to be bored but more boring than wild.
Running late.
Fate don't wait.
You run on the fumes of the being of you.
Running late,
of running away.
Running late.
Spreading like fire,
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boil you alive.
The curse of your blood is your ticket to ride.
Open your eyes,
face the road.
Open your eyes to open up and go.
Running late.
Fate don't wait.
You run on the fumes of the being of you.
Running late,
of running away.
Running late.
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