twinkle, twinkle, little watch
how your twinkling makes me cotch
jingling coins might make me high
beds of gold cause me to lie
when the treasure map reads true
i will sail the world with you
keeping time whose value's known
time is money, it's been shown
you'll remain another toy
amongst grand things that bring me joy
gold, and diamonds, foreign lands
promised with these rings and bands
when you've gone around enough
i'll spin your hands back, call your bluff
for time goes forwards, backwards too
so all we need are wads of glue
to stick your hands fast to the now
and all the grace to me allow
to make things right, as i see fit
to play the markets, cheat a bit
i'll be rich, and you'll stay young
then we'll enjoy this wealth i've sung
history lies within your hands
together we'll control the sands
twinkle, twinkle, my timepiece
how you make the birdsong cease
freeze my greedy grin and eyes
twinkling brightly, no goodbyes
*breathes in*
["cotch" is a problematic non-word; as a south african, i'm used to it meaning "to throw up" but according to the urban dictionary it means "to relax"]
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