Brendan Kellogg

Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock

That’s the language of the Clock

Tock-Tick, Tock-Tick

This is the story, the story of Nick

Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock

Went the heart of the Clock

The story begins with a boy named Nick,

A clockmaker by nature and habit.

He made them so fine, so perfect,

Each one with perfect syncopation.

“Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock.”

He always says that’s the language of the Clock.

On a rainy day so fine for a boy named Nick, it was his favorite surprise.

The Clock went “Tock-Tick, Tock-Tick.”

He asked the Clock why it spoke so loudly,

To which it replied “Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock.”

In reply to the Clocks dark desire, Nick took a knife from the kitchen counter.

He waited for a customer, pondering why he listened to a Clock that Tocked and Ticked.

A bell rung near, signalling a customer is now here,

It was a man asking for a grandfather clock, a present for his dad.

Nick tells the man to come to the back to pick out the wood and style for the clock.

The Clock reminds Nick or what he must do, with a series of Ticks and Tocks.

Lifting up the knife Nick got ready to stab, with the man unknowing of his cruel fate, soon to come of hand.

With a slash, with a thrust, the crimson liquid streamed out.

Nick took his heart that was beating, beating with the Clock.

Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock

This is the language of the Clock

Tock-Tick, Tock-Tick

The story continues, the story of Nick

Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock

This is the beating heart of the Clock

With the Clock’s dark desire granted, the boy named Nick went back to his clocks.

The Clock kept Ticking, it kept Tocking, speaking to the boy named Nick,

Nick seemed to be the only one to understand his Clock.

But to every man a clock be made.

Just as the boy named Nick finished the grandfather clock for the man who lie dead on the floor,

“Tock-Tick Tock-Tick.” Went the Clock, asking for the crimson liquid once more.

Nick complied, unaware of his doings, for he was under the spell of the Clock.

The bell rang, so far yet so near, this time a woman was here,

She asked for a clock to which Nick replied, “Yes of course, go to the back.”

The woman complied, and with that he picked up a cleaver.

The boy named Nick chopped her up, into small bits,

Leaving the heart, the most important part.

Having the heart to keep perfect syncopation, he made a clock for the now dead woman.

“Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock.” Said the Clock, to which Nick repeated “One heart, One clock.”

Saying this he then began to remember, remember how he got the Clock.

He felt his chest feeling for a beat,

Nothing.

“Not a sound!” a boy named Nick exclaimed.

For every clock there was once a heart, hearts that keep perfect syncopation.

With tears in his eyes he picked up a saw, mad at the Clock for what his father had done,

The Clock asked him to stop with Tocks and Ticks,

But to no avail, it was to no use.

A boy named Nick, he cut up that Clock, seeing something that would have given him a heart attack,

His heart was black, as cold as stone

A reflection of what, the boy named Nick, had done.

With his fury he stabbed the heart, with the knife he took from the man who wanted the grandfather clock.

Nick grasped his empty cavity of a chest, and lay dead on the floor,

Next to the vile Clock, to which belonged to a boy named Nick.

Tick-Tock Tick-Tock

This was the language of the Clock

Tock-Tick Tock-Tick

Thus ends the story of a boy named Nick

Tick-Tock Tick-Tock

That was the way that the evil Clock went, before it’s beating heart . . . . Stoppe