Clock Hands

by Hands Of A Saviour

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Ian S. Cophin
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Ian S. Cophin Hey
One of you has a cousin named Sally (now living in Switzerland). We play together in Velvet Ashes and this is how I found out about you guys! I've just released a post-metal EP on bandcamp.
Ian S. Cophin Favorite track: If It Bleeds, It Leads.
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released July 19, 2013

All music, lyrics and artwork concept by Hands Of A Saviour.

Tracks 1-6 produced and engineered by Mike Malyan of Monuments & The Algorithm.

Artwork by Shaun Preece at



all rights reserved


Hands Of A Saviour London, UK

Machine-gun vocals, dissonant grooves and heavy, technical metalcore from North London, England.

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Track Name: Bone Season
Another day has gone to waste
when I wake up and see that face.
Perpetually you stare at me;
copy me in everything.

You're not the man I wanted to be.
Erase yourself.
A new morning is another tragedy.

Bleed Out.
Bleed Out.
Bleed Out.
Track Name: Heirlooms
Passed down from a father to son,
inherited by the fortunate one
who in his eighteenth year is gift the world
... but it's never enough.

Under a crown of clouds, he's helplessly equipped
with imagination, no talent to paint it.
Some kinder words have brushed his stubborn ear
... but they're never enough.

The perpetual child in him endlessly waits
for a ship he knows will never come,
while beneath his feet, his father's words engraved:
“you'll come to know this so well,

Welcome Home."

... And I've come to know this so well.
I'm so alone, found no council in flesh and bone ...

... my birthright, lucky me;
the family disease I will bequeath

But how could i inflict this on my own son?

I'll teach him all I know:
slit your throat, keep moving on.
I learned from the best; taught father to son:
slit your throat, keep moving on.

He looks just like me.

I am my father's son - inherited by the fortunate one.
Track Name: Clock Hands
How could you take her away from us?
My whispers barely pierce the dust.
A calendar filled with empty promises, forever to dwell,
endlessly repeating, I remember this only too well:

Our own flesh and blood
has turned on us again.
That cursèd beast liked the taste of us
so well he's been

licking his chops for the rest of you, laying in wait;
looming in every photo from your wedding day -
ironic smile; poisonous prayer;
skyscraper’s shadow o'er groom and his heir.

What wrong did they commit?
Veneration this life couldn't permit?
A motherless son, just three years of age;
a motherless son, he is only a child.

Condemned to half the childhood I've known,
for what?
Her husband living their dream alone,
For what?

What's the use? While I sing, I'll hang your picture on my wall -
My bitter reminder of how I'll always love you.

If I could only craft more with these wasted clock hands,
I would repair yours with my sprockets and gears;
to stop the sand from running through their fingers,
I would gift you my years;
I would paint you in minutes;
I would wrap you in hours.
If I could strip the age from my bones
and pay back the eras I've spurned,
I would keep you here;
I would lock you in.
But I can't
and you won't
'Cause all I have are words - just 6th form prose -
(foolish) thinking I could change the world.
'Cause my words are whispers,
they barely pierce the dust.
They can't keep you here;
won’t lock you in.
I just watch you wind down,
my beautiful one.
I would paint you in minutes;
I would wrap you in hours.

Drape my soul in every sin,
flog me for everything she could have been.
Take me away, leave her in my place,
strike out my name and then black out my face.
Erase my past, paint her in minutes and
wrap her in my hours.
Track Name: If It Bleeds, It Leads
If black and white is all you read
then black and white is all you'll see,
and all you'll think is toil and strife
because toil and strife is all they write.

They twist, contort reality
to boost profitability,
if what they wrote drove us to war,
they'd seize their chance to sell us more.

They prey on fear.
In death they cheer.
With blood imbued,
It’ll happen to you.

The rapists are coming for you.
The racists are coming for you.
The migrants are coming for you.
Everyone is gunning for you.

And if you go outside, you're gonna get shanked.

Believe none of what you read,
they only speak in misery.
A witch hunt with no shame,
they just want somebody to blame.

And if you don't get cut, your pay check will.
Watch out, if it bleeds it leads.
A gang war is at your door.
You black out, when it bleeds it leads.
Swine flu is coming for you.
You tap out, when you bleed you lead.
The truth won't sell, so they won't tell.
They cash out - if it bleeds it leads.
Track Name: Untouchable
What a night to lay awake,
lay awake and regret all my memories,
dwell again on all my pathetic fantasies.
See, I've got my share because I'm untouchable.

So pathetic I've forgotten the feel of skin under the touch.
And who'd be so kind to me when I clearly don't deserve it?

How could I think I was good enough
to love others and to be loved?
What made me think I was good enough
to be loved?

But I’m fine.

Getting by all by myself.
Getting off all by myself.

Because alone is all I've known -
though my faults are not my fault.
Untouched and buried in dust -
my faults are not my fault.

But it's just what I deserve -
my faults are all my fault.
I'm only ugly inside-out -
my faults are all my fault.
Track Name: Faggot
Call me a faggot, I'm a nigger, I'm a paki, I'm a spic,
but I'll never be you, so at least I’ll never be a prick -
all talk, no substance; words in abundance,
but do you ever back them up? They're redundant.

Now you've gotten your wish, and the spotlight's on you
just like you wanted, but you've frozen up.
All of a sudden, you don't look so tough.
Looks like I called your bluff.

Because when it's you against me and my word against yours,
if I were you I would have picked a better word
than calling me a faggot in a room of our peers:
the bitches; sudacas; the kikes; the queers.

So have you ever been knocked on your back by a faggot?
I guess you haven't.
Well you're about to learn what it's like when you
get what's coming to you.

You said what you said,
You thought you'd beaten me down

but guess what, you only brought out the faggot in me.
You only laugh at other people's expense and that doesn't sit right with me.
So now this faggot's going to go and put you in your place,
and this room of reprobates will knock you off your perch.

Now, I won't offer my hand when you drop, I'll watch you fall to the ground
for every time you made fun of my name, or how I've painted my nails or how my accent sounds.

I'd try and make like it doesn't affect me,
just another day, another feeling neglected,
as I'd lay awake, asking what I'd done
in another life to deserve this one.
I can't believe you made me think there was something wrong with me.

But there ain't nothing you could say that could ever make me lose my way,
and I know there will come a time when you regret what you've said today.
And that'll haunt you more than any black eye ever could,
it'll teach you more than any bust lip ever would.
I wouldn't act this out, no, I was raised much better than that.
You want to make fun of where I'm from? Well that's fine, I'm proud.
It may have taken me twenty years to grow into this skin,
but it fit, so I bit, if I'm a faggot, I’m a faggot, but it's still my skin.