Hours

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The clock shall always be the enemy, With his hands of weaponry, Time stamped in history, With actions of misery.   Tick tock goes the clock,
The clock shall always be the enemy, With his hands of weaponry, Time stamped in history, With actions of misery.   Tick tock goes the clock,
From left to right and back again they swing: The golden disks, the pendulums depended. Indifferent to those who onward tread, They click in perfect time, in time unending.
In the morning I wake to rush and runTo keep in time time timeIn the day I have so little funI keep in time time timeIn the noon I begin to swoonFor there is so little timeNot even enough for this rhyme
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