Chapter Text
The clock strikes one,
and hell has come,
the war to end all wars.
The clock strikes two,
we are too few,
and so their power soars.
The clock strikes three,
where can he be?
The man who fears himself.
The clock strikes four,
he's at the door,
or hiding on a shelf.
The clock strikes five,
hell comes alive,
and now too does the man.
The clock strikes six,
He plays his tricks,
Afraid to raise his hand.
The clock strikes seven,
He'd go to heaven,
If not for his own guilt.
The clock strikes eight,
He will dictate,
when our great power will wilt.
The clock strikes nine,
the war of time,
nears it's frenzied end.
The clock strikes ten,
he comes again,
but not to us defend.
The clock strikes eleven,
No such thing as heaven,
but he's fate's great concocter.
The clock strikes twelve,
where darkness dwells,
you'll alway find the Doctor.