She sits in her little glass room and watches, watches, watches. Tick-tock, hickory-dock, the mice run down the clock just to scurry back up again when the bad man comes to trap them away. Wasting time, timing waste, time was stinging to me, singing and stinging, replicated back.
Wind them up, watch them spin,
centrifugal force keeps them all tucked
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No one listens, though.
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(ooc: strikes = thoughts River can pick up. ^_^)
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