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Dirty fingers,
Depart from where they lingered,
Only to leave behind,
A mark thats sticky and signed,
With a pen full of oily ink,
On the carpet, the wall, or the sink,
Which one must clean, so it may stay,
In a tidy and orderly way,
But when the time has finally arrived,
When through the troubles you have strived,
To find that the fingers marks are gone,
You realize that you could be wrong,
And sensing that the fingers never sleep,
Always playing, upsetting your daily house keep,
You give up, and walk away,
You'll clean up this mess another day.
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