Lyrics: Brandon Flowers. The Clock Was Tickin.

A teacher had you write a letter, you were eight years old
About the man that you'd become and the positions you'd hold
But this was long before you and Jackie Jaronimo met
In the Prelude Park at midnight
Now when it came to bells and whistles Jackie did not like
And when she kissed you on the kisser, boy, you kissed her back
Now you tell her that you love her
And she cuts you slack when you drink with your buddies on the weekend

And the weeks fly by and the years roll on
You spend your whole life dropping nickles in the bucket
Waking up at dawn
And while Jackie displayed the joys of finger licking
That clock up on the wall was a tickin'

You got yourself a job cleaning hospital floors
While Jackie had a baby and she had five more
They pay you just enough to drag your ass to the store
To buy bread, milk and better homes and gardens
Jackie flips the pages and she dreams little dreams
A cottage in the country built with real wood beams
There's a baby in the bedroom, he's starting to scream
She holds him, though he probably won't remember

And the weeks fly by and the years roll on
Sometimes dreams are all you've got
To keep you going when the day gets long
And you gave up so many just to make a living
That clock up on the wall was a tickin'

Now the kids were all grateful when they left the nest
And Jackie wasn't perfect but she did her best
She sees the opportunity to get you some rest
But you can't sleep on the account of screaming grandkids
The golden years are meant to leave a gleam in your eye
You're starting to discover it's a great big lie
They work you like a dog until you quit or you die
But you can't quit because Jackie needs the benefits

And the weeks fly by and the years roll on
They say patience is a virtue
But the doctor says she don't have long
You stood up and tried your damndest not to listen
But that clock up on the wall was a tickin'

When they told you to clear the room, that's when it hit you
You watched as a caravan took your sweetheart away
The arguments and the fights and money troubles seem so worthless as
As the kids throw yellow roses on her grave

And the weeks fly by and the years roll on
The house is quiet now and everything inside it seems to know she's gone
There's a picture of you both, sixteen years old, just kissing
And that clock up on the wall was a tickin'

You always thought she had a chance
That there was somewhere she hid
And now you've come to the conclusion that she never did
Have a chance, that is