Sitting on a bench so stiff, a crack beneath my feet,
Journeys across a path to walk, a path made of concrete.
Journeys across a path to walk, a path made of concrete.
Destiny plays a wondrous game should these feet ever greet
To know a crack upon the ground could make a match so sweet.
Dodge and twist through cluttered ground, find someone else to meet,
Ending upon a pair of shoes inside a pair of feet.
What's in store should I ignore and look the other way?
Nothing more, the same old boring each and every day.
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