Watching, waiting, living for the ringing.
The first ringing, the one owned by morning,
Forces us from a deep, peaceful slumber.
Operating in a daze, one step, two.
Down the stairs, a slow, unsteady lumber.
Get ready, don't trip, don't dawdle.
The ringing will find us, will catch us.
The second ringing forces us into cages.
Doors barred shut, look ahead, do what they say.
Copy, must copy the superiors, only they can survive the ages.
The third ringing jabs at the senses, prodding, prying.
Forced up, still prodding, still prying, must move.
Silence, a moment only, eruptions of sound.
Dash, out run the ringing, the ringing locks you out.
Dash, faster, faster, don't disobey the master.
Safe for a moment, safe for a time.
Don't look at the ones looked out, shame.
They danced around, you ran faster.
They are the ones who were caught.
Caught by the ringing, beat by the master.
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