Ticking of a time bomb, I just want to stop the sound, fated like the lonesome, it’s true. Remind me of a memory, bleed it ‘til it runs dry, but if it feels like this, then it’s probably wrong, it’s true. I don’t know what comes now, I can’t hear it but I know the sound. Everyone is blind just the same as you, but you’ll see it when it comes around. Frightened like an orphan, bitter like an old man, taken from your family, it’s true. No, I don’t deserve this, but who am I to judge? Happiness, it comes at the strangest times, it’s true.