story about some guy I guess..

there once was a clockler, a man who built clocks, he lived in the mineshafts, he slept on the rocks, the man was unstable, he built clocks with knives, that's why his wife left him, those clocks would take lives, he was a collector, of nothing too arty, what he wanted was ghosts, to fill up his party, this man was a DJ, an amateur-they say, he'd get up on the stage, and clocks ticking would play, but the lighting was awesome, no rave could compare, designed by his partner, who's name was Pierre, so the ghosts stuck around, in the mineshafts at night, and they'd wake up the clockler, to give him a fright, soon the clockler went crazy, and rampaged the town, Pierre pushed him in the river, hoping he'd drown, but Pierre fell in too, and he got all wet, there was a sensual moment, with little regret, they each took a knife, and stabbed every clock, the rage was all over, once the ticking had stopped.