The Choice Is Yours.

"Well, go on, do me in you cowards! I don't want to live anyway, not in a stinking world like this!


Oh, and what's so stinking about it?


It's a stinking world because there's no law and order anymore! It's stinking world because it lets the young get onto the old, like you done. Oh, it's no world for an old man any longer! What sort of world is it at all? Men on the moon, and men spinning round the earth, and there's not no attention paid to earthly law and order no more!"


Do I have a choice?
What makes me do,
Whatever I do?
Is it me?

What force guides us?
Sets our actions in motion?
It is the flow of time?
Or human emotion?

Is it that same force,
That makes stars spin,
That makes women weep,
And that makes men sin?

Is it that same force,
That makes the seas roll,
That makes mountains tumble,
And the reaper take his toll?

Who makes the world as it is?
What reaction makes love?
What hand turns the silent cogs,
Shrouded in an unseen glove?

What makes you so sure,
You control yourself?
What makes you so sure,
You have a choice?

We are all clockwork,
The semblance of life,
It fills us, clouds us,
Makes us want to believe.

It makes us want to believe we are more.

More than a line in the sand, in the face of an incoming tide.

So we do, with all our clockwork hearts.