It will taken twelve dozen years to live out this life,
Through trouble and turmoil and all of the toil and strife;
It's a gross idea but well what the hell does it mean,
With time on your hands and all the money being green.
.
Now in the truth of my pen I can't not tell a lie,
Lest I venture and dare and not having to try;
To die before time would be a different kind of dye,
And the material worn to live out this passionate cry.
.
So I try to lead life right and around the world I fly,
With no time to take out and no time for bye and bye;
As I go along I accumulate and know what I have to buy,
That when the time runs out, by the words I can abide.
.
Twelve men make money and a dozen women to match,
The problem of seeing sin is not a thing you can catch;
The sheer will to win leaves you out on high and dry,
Because the losing is giving love and just getting a big sigh.
.
Twelve dozen things and all the price of the people,
Better doing it in pairs and all the prayers in the steeple;
For thousands upon thousands all go right up to God,
So Heavens full of Saints, hells full of the down, out and odd.
.
But the right time to leave is left up to achievement,
Where opposites oppose and what remains is the believers;
For thinking it is all right might mean a good kind of life,
But what's really left is the struggle for a long time in strife.
.
Signed,
Three fifties.
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