Y12W18

Quite a few metaphors there, maybe too many for one song. You have a race, the sunset, a clock, the end of a rope, and sliding down a slope. Try expanding on one or two of those and maybe give some hint as to whether this is life in general, a job, too many irons in the fire, or whatever.

I'm not sure about "before time gets un-spun." I don't quite get the meaning.

Good start. :D

I agree with Renee about the metaphors and suggest describing what the "it" is in "got to get it done"

Also consider loading the song with more concrete images.

I made a similar song a couple weeks ago (light on concrete images) and it came across as generic and cliché.

More concrete images will give the lyrics uniqueness and personality....right now I see the following: sun, clock, rope.....

...when you define "it" the concrete images will be easier to incorporate.

Thanks for sharing.

James

BTW This is my song I was referring to for comparison of little to no concrete details compared with the rewrite with concrete details.......

=====Original Version=====(only one concrete image: bell jar)
She lived to write
At least she tried
She tried to write
This mother; this wife

She was young
She was smart
Life outside distorted; bizarre
She kept her rage in a bell jar

She lived to die
At least she tried
She tried to die
This mother; this wife

She was young
She was smart
Life outside distorted; bizarre
She kept her rage in a bell jar

I think I made you up inside my head (repeat)
I shut my eyes and the world drops dead

=====Revised Version =======
http://soundclick.co...cfm?id=12702165
(more concrete images: petticoats, hooks, doll house, etc.....)

Crisp starch petticoats hang on hooks
Teach young women to clean and cook
Doll house dreams; manicures
Don’t bite the doctor; don’t fight the nurse

Typewriter keys click at 4 A.M.
Black blots on pages with fountain pens
Poems to the dead; dry inkwell
Lady Lazarus back from Hell

She was young
She was smart
Martyr’s smile distorted; bizarre
She kept her rage in a bell jar

The ocean refused her sour breath
Under the floor boards swallowed pills for rest
Carbon monoxide dying is an art
Head in the oven; half-baked heart

She was young
She was smart
Martyr’s smile distorted; bizarre
She kept her rage in a bell jar

I think I made you up inside my head (repeat)
I shut my eyes and the world drops dead