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Gotterdamerung; and hearts get flung;
On voyages, sail clear to the moon.
And wedding vows get said somehow,
But we're pinching ourselves too soon.
Now we settle down, stop chasing the town;
Be respectable, in a pinch.
But drinking's still fine, and sex divine-
Oh! annoying seven-year itch.
Old age seeps, blood pressure creeps;
We're burning our candles too fast.
Though sleeping's too light, we dream at night
We're burning that last tank of gas.
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