Unnamed

Haven't decided on a name for this.

Time moves on by,
with the ticking of the clock,
and the beating of the waves,
against the dock,
And when the sun burns out,
I think I'll break the lock.

Wishing for a trick,
something to break within,
release you from,
all of your mortal sins,
and the things you'd say at night,
when no ones listening in.

Horns will blow,
to bring in the new years king,
someone so cold,
he'll freeze the words you sing,
and this will be,
the end of everything.

Steal away my dreams,
you can have all of my hope,
but just don't take,
this piece of rope,
that hangs down from my neck,
it's all that's keeping me afloat.

Left all alone,
to gaze at the land,
ravaged and burned,
into sand,
and you can thank your new king,
and his hand.

I don't know man, it sounds kind of forced.

Uplifting....quite.