Progress of the working hands

Late oh late
Clock why do you move around so
And life always happening by the arrow of the hands
Late, late and pleading, empty excuses, life happening

Climbing the grassy mound
Lost documents of the ones I've taught
Time flies when people have deep conversations on boats
Rivers free, roads all blocked

Protestors grab trash to burn in the street
The road is now shut but the hands still turn
The tick and the tock marching on
Such a mechanical attempt at focusing on progress

Early morning the sun on your wrist
When the sky is wet and the light hidden by mist
When the sky is dirty and light is hidden by smog
reset that thing twice a year, do you still marvel the spinning cogs?

The traffic accumulates around the demonstration
Police trucks arrive like alarm clocks
People all over the city are late and they know it's their fault
A system of robbery which sustains a greedy few grabbed the future and stole it.