In the Sand Box of Time
Time’s long strands, a play box of sand.
Young & strong, won’t spare a thought.
Taut flesh frowns on a wrinkled hand.
Time’s long strands, a play box of sand.
Isn't a head that remembers how to stand
better than a head alone, black in each spot?
Time’s long strands, a play box of sand.
Young & strong, won’t spare a thought.
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