Five To Eleven
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The hanging grandfather clock
Always says five to eleven
The pendulum is holding slightly to the right
I don't even remember how it sounds anymore
I don't even know if it works
I leave it unwound because I would get
Complaints from the landlord
It's that loud
As the day journeys on
Silence creeps slowly against time
And I am left to my own devices
I put a slow rhythm on from growing mad
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