Tick Tock
Words and music by Jenn Lindsay

I drag my toes through the dust.
They make sad little circles.
I wish they made little cutouts that were secret portals.
Iíd get myself out of this pickle
this job that turns my brain to noodles.
I sit and type on my computer
and wait for the clock to cock-a-doodle.
Down the hall they are playing pop songs:
Mariah, we are singing along.
I wanted a job and I got one
Heaven knows it ainít no fun.
So much work gets me confused
and I press hold like I press snooze.
I slobber on the desk and my skin turns grey.
The Fed Ex man woke me up today.
Heís on the clock, the mail man too
we watch those clocks and do what weíre asked to do.
A city, a country, a world all full
of people watching clocks and wishing they could go.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

What clocks do is let us out from the zoo
where we wait with our peanuts and cheese doodle-do
for the part of the day we moved here to do.
For music, talking, cootchy-cootchy coo
The part of the day my job pays for me to do.
And now I am the only one around
with my noodle noggin and a typing sound
Eight hours bored! That cleans out your core!
Till youíre deadwood, dead dog, happy no more!
Jobs worth nothingóIíve had about a dozen
Where I feel cryogenically frozen
When the midday graveyard shift hits
I slump in my chair and I lose my shit.
The babies in my head are crying all the time.
Their snot takes the place of thoughts in my mind.
Now Iím stuck with a head full of snot
and I try to think but itís all just rot
so I busy myself by watching the clock.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

Big boss with the hot sauce takes his very big pen.
He makes a memo that I was late again.
If Iím late again just pay me anyway
Whatís it to you? Youíll get the same.
But El Presidente has a hot air brain.
His paychecks stir the breeze of my stagnant days.
Hey Papa Smurf! Whereíd you get the power
To make that last hour seem like three hours?
Itís amazing! Stupefying! Youíre the dog with the bone!
Thank you much, Captain Crunch, now can I go home!
Oh my King, do you find it funny
I have so much month at the end of my money?

Come tears, come rain, come a varicose vein
I play receptionist day after day
Hello? Hello? I canít hear what you say!
Thereís snot in my ear! Can you say your name?
You have reached the scary secretary,
the automatic diplomatic answering fairy.
I have left the building already.
Iím gone.

I look at my life through a microscope
I comb through the grit with a fine-toothed comb
I split the gourd that is my little head
And it is just bored. It is near dead
It is gasping for breath and trying to speak
I lean over to hear and feel breath on my cheek.
A death rattle. A faint knock.
The last thing heard is the sound of the clock.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.