Обратный отсчет (Ритмичный поп)

The second hand is sweeping the dial. Been staring at the same spot for a while. Seven forty-five, the evening begins. Wiping the dust off my favorite sins. Keys on the table, wallet in the pocket. Energy building like a spark in a socket. Time is a construct, but I'm feeling the rush. The city outside is starting to crush. Every minute feels like an hour or two. When all of the minutes are leading to you. Tick tock, watch the rhythm drop. Can't rewind and I cannot stop. Tick tock, watch the rhythm drop. Can't rewind and I cannot stop. Tracing the shadow dust against the wall. Waiting for the night to make the call. Time is ticking, slipping away. This is the part where the players play. Pacing the floorboards left to right. Testing the boundaries of the night. Checking my phone, the screen goes black. No turning around, no going Back. Every minute inside the Clock. Tick tock, watch the rhythm drop. Can't rewind and I cannot stop. Tracing the shadow dust against the wall. Waiting for the night to make the call. Time is ticking for you.