Wait in distinct rooftop air, staring through the glass window
When she cannot join him.
but he'd jump in irregular presence,
just to have her close near the window.
But outside where it's lit by a ciggarette,
he can't tell what he wants.
but trust me, he'll wait.
If it's her, he'll be fine.
If it's her, he'll run and hide.
In the room where tables are aligned in unison with chairs
They'll fight,
but to fight near the window,
he couldn't fall like now.
She'll ALWAYS be crying out,
because on the bench,
as a queen with the man she loves,
It Won't Change.
She'll try to forget.
But he'll always be waiting on the rooftop,
with it's rooftop air
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