I have been on lonely beaches pretending to die
Looking at solitary gulls listening to their cry,

Sweeping sands with my feet I hear the sea
Are the gulls flying there only to speak to me?

What do they say that I would want to hear
Today is tomorrow yesterday some other year,

Could I have misunderstood why I am here
Waiting for the clock to slow down, no fear,

I throw my clocks into the air, on a kind of spree
Where aches only occur when I bend or crook a knee,

With curses said out loud I slow my walk on the sand
And realise only now that I am holding your hand.