The Day After The Day After the End

The clock is stuck at five to twelve.
The rain comes relentlessly down.
Outside the windows, light fumbles
And stumbles into the distance.

Inside the windows, we just stand.
The clock is stuck at five to twelve.
From another room, we hear sounds
Such as we’ve never heard before.

The roof leaks over the table,
Where we’ve placed a battered bucket.
The clock is stuck at five to twelve.
It’s been perhaps that way for years.

So I’ll hold you if you’ll hold me
Until the rain stops or we do,
Until the sounds or we have gone.
The clock is stuck at five to twelve.