Crude Clockwork

The clock strikes midnight,

The glasses are raised.

Lovers consume each other,

Amidst the confetti haze.

Here he comes now,

Eyes alight with hunger.

As if he's found a treasure chest,

His greedy mouth can plunder.

Time's not on his side,

And neither am I.

This minute isn't ours,

I don't think pigs can fly.

I'd rather have a love,

That surpasses 60 seconds.

I'd rather begin my new year,

Without a make-out session.

Farewell two-thousand fifteen,

Usher in the big one-six.

I'll kiss Jack Daniel himself,

And pray the minute hand ticks.