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The arms of the clock they sway to and fro,
With the sound of a tick and then a tock,
Hands moving down and up as they spin round and round,
Marking the time of day, announcing to all the hours.

Minutes go by, the earth strolls past the sun,
Kicked out and blocked, moon shadows displayed,
Days go by, the earth spins round and round,
Alas, the years speed past.

I look upon myself,
Frail hands shake as this pen I hold,
And yet another snowy lock falls to the ground,
Tis the signs of old age they say.

The bass in my voice replaced with a croak,
The spring in my step gone,
As I walk with a limp, a stick and a shuffle,
And it all started with the tick-tock of the arms of the clock

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