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Hangman In The ShadowThe clock may not mean much to rabbits and owlsDepending on darkness and light To fly in the night or to hide in a hole We can do both fairly well But what is this ticking that saves us from sleep From light and from warm peace of mind? It's tin and it's cold and is brutal in years It's emptiness and broken tears We'll lie under blossom, we'll dance in the field 'Til rocks start to fall from the sky We'll swim in the river, and bathe in the sea And lay 'til our bodies are dry Then what is this beating that saves me from sleep? It's wondering, waiting to try The whole world around me is solemn and old And loneliness answers my sigh |