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Time Flies | ||
| The thin red hand goes sweeping round As seconds flee where'er they go. It doesn't make a single sound! It's soft as gently falling snow. Relentlessly the hand spins on, Proclaiming time will never stop. We cannot seize the moment gone; It passes like a splattered drop. Let's use each second very well For work or play that will fulfill. And if at times we rest a spell We bounce right back with strengthened will. | ||
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