What good would running do now?
None, as far as I can tell.
Your fortune you avow
When you’re in gold and pastel
You are already gone,
And the storm is now here.
I won’t be staying long
But you are gone, my dear.
What good would crying do now?
None, as far as I can tell.
Your fortune I can’t allow
When I see how you do well.
You are already gone,
And the storm is now here.
It’d be nice not to wrong
But who am I to care.
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