the clock ticks, incessantly. an annoying reminder of your heart beating your life away.

count it down: i'm late, are you waiting expectantly?

sorry, i was a little busy. i had this little demon riding on my shoulder and epiphany came knocking... you know how it is.

count me down... i'm late, are you expecting me?

no, i'm fine, there's nothing wrong. no, i wasn't saying anything, just clearing my throat. no, i didn't mean it, just joking. no, no, i'm not leaving. no, no, i'm not angry. no, no, i'm not lonely. no, no, i'm not lying.

the clock is ticking, an unappreciated reminder of time counting me out.

so, are you expecting me?

(no, i wouldn't call you selfish for expecting me. no, no, i wouldn't expect anything of you...
well, maybe a few things. you wouldn't happen to have a horse, a sword, and a suit of armor, would you? i need a knight.)