I stand before the massive clocks Made of copper and gleaming bright And as the clocks begin to chime Their sides shine in the light With a loud tick, a grinding sound With a boom the hand slowly moves And as I stand there I can see The hand won't move when I choose Surrounded by small clocks And clocks that reach the floor I'm surrounded by old-fashioned pieces In a room without a door The sunlight comes from somewhere Softly into the room That would, otherwise have been, A ticking timeless tomb And as I watch the face Of an old clock on the wall My eyes fix on the clock And I begin to fall I'm in a swirl of color Of memories, of light As the world is spinning In fractures of day and night Sound and music blur the air Ribbons of color are free And suddenly, as I stand there I see my life before me Each second is flying by I see the choices I've made The acts I've done throughout my life In Technicolor display When the whirling stops,...