A Sad Face Without a Story

Time clock, Baby Stuck on the inside out on the black bench, Baby. Never going back like the good old days like the jinxed rinks, cut out like watersheds. It’s so obvious, Baby. That you want the top shelf honey, lookin’ like a million bucks. Those rose pedals for the first time love, in the attic up top, Baby. For the first time, overlook the city with a new clock. For hours we sat unlocked, waiting for the Sun to show up.