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Ode to the Old

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No more pain, no more tears
No more bullets, bloodshed or fears.
Clear as day I can see
But seems so far away from me.

Idle time, ticking away,
With each second my soul grays.
In case you haven't noticed,
I'm not the perfect-est
Man for the duties assigned.
But who else could you find?

My body is still warm, so I know I'm alive.
Still waiting for that tombstone to arrive.
At my doorstep lies a box
Full of old newspaper clippings and new socks.
Dispose of the elders to feed the youth,
What do you think of my baby daughter, Ruth?

I can feel you, calling me home,
Now it is to late to romp and roam.
What can I do to feed my soul
While my earthly body pays it's toll?

Anyone who can, give me a theory,
Of why my body is so broken and weary.

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