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Like the old rusty wheels
Of a church tower clock
Slowly catching up minutes
As the days make them drop
Running time down is my job
Poor old beggar
Doesn't care to wait or stop
In a sun stricken desert
Grows a heartbroken rose
Where the days of the fires
Make the nights freezing cold
Running time down is my job
Poor old beggar
Doesn't care to wait or stop.