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CLOCKWORK COFFEE
Private Notes
Private Notes
Notes
He came into the restaurant like clockwork
And ordered his coffee exactly the same
And even though he was a bit of a jerk
Each one of us all knew him by his first name
Each and every day when he would drop on by
We watched him slowly count each piece of tired change
Not one clue that he would so suddenly die
Before our next chance for a peaceful exchange
It is likely he had only few to mourn
What a quiet, lonely funeral session
From the very first moment that he was born
He left us all with a unique impression.
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