Our eyes are well trained to see the peculiar
So mine found themselves looking upon Julia
She conversed with a lonely soul underground
Until King’s Cross Station, where his exit was found
Further her task seemed to be to hum her darling song
Since I knew it myself, she got it completely wrong
A father of fathers looked at her beyond his paper
So she smiled and he hid as if she were a kidnapper
As this tragedy unfolded before my eyes
I couldn’t help but wonder who of them was wise
Was it the crowd that persecuted, quiet and proud
Or was it the stranger that was loving a little too loud
As she tipped her hat adieu to the distressed commute
She stumbled over the gap, which I found rather cute
So when I found her later on that week sitting alone
I drew near to her and slipped the number to my phone
A kiss of blessing can cause the honest to stagger
They return the gesture without hubris or swagger
The loving heart shall receive its own gift in plenty
Other soul’s can only wish for theirs are empty
The exiles of Acceptable return to your home
The Romans may do, but they must see this is not Rome
Leave the caves you’ve wasted in for too long
Perhaps not you but the others were wrong
The shame that once was you’re prison’s guard
May have left you broken, afraid and scarred
But hold up the mantle that this pen gives you
And rejoice in the knowledge that you have work to do
But I have found a fault in my crafted words
For if you, as I have ordered, would march onwards
You would have freed yourself of discomfiture
Why, my words would solely become furniture!
At the grand crescendo the choir meets,
As the audience begin to rise from their seats
And all ears await the final chord
As all hearts await the final word
So, um...I guess I’m kind of going to finish here
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