My colloquial poet.
My Einstein of common.
My Pied Piper.
Lead the way,
Like you used to.
Sweet lies,
Falling from arched lips,
I want to hear them.
Tell me the sky is endless,
And a mile is a metre,
So I can look up to heaven,
And take a step into life.
But you don’t do that anymore.
Where is your flute, Piper?
Why are there so many rats?
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