Hourglass

With charcoal-like outlines
White birches stand tall
An ivory landscape
A faint bluish haze

The glimpse of a creature
With a near-silent wingbeat
A delicate dance with
A watery sun

Father Time,
Had long forgotten about this place
But he will not falter
The moment he walks in

Grey cold fumes of machinery
Oily tears, the smell of kerosine
Asphalt appears to have cut up the scenery

All these ancient creatures
Slowly change their features
Only to shape the fate of their species

Dissolve into strange worlds
Where snow turns to mud
And colossal chimneys
Darken the skyline

Father Time
Will not feel anything
He will not falter
The moment he shows up

The quick advance of the industry
Sounds of steel from the factories
This all has passed the verge of mockery

So quickly turn the hourglass
Quickly turn the hourglass