The sky is grey,
And the trees are dead.
It’s a cold September morning,
And I should still be in bed.
I stare at the dull buildings,
Industrialised beyond repair.
Oh London,
Don’t hide behind your grey facade,
I know what’s inside.
I am oh so tired,
But this is the city that never sleeps.
But I just carry on,
Without a care in the world.
For soon,
I’ll soak in my melancholy gloom.
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What a sad lad…..
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