When the clock strikes 12

When the clock strikes 12
and all under you rise from below
a cloud covered the moon
and all seems dark and gloom

When the clock strikes 12
and all above you shadowed the land
a ripple from the lake breaks the silence
and all it takes is a bit more patience

Oh how the time clicks away
not waiting for any other play
for the ball must keep on rolling
and the player, running

Oh how the rain falls as the game is being played
the thunder and lightning not counting their days
and all things under them wet - shivering
but when the clock strikes 12
and all things seem bad
there is still one thing that keeps the ball rolling
and that is the player running,
and his spirit burning.

When the clock strikes 12...