Tick, tock goes the clock,
That only strikes twelve.
Hurry, scurry, you’re runny out of time,
Before that clock starts to dime.
This place of paper roses,
And butterflies that touch our noses;
A place where fantasy thrives.
Come along,
And hop unto,
Our Carrousel of broken Fairytales.
Tisk, task says the mask,
That’s in the mirror.
Never, ever will you
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