She said 'You're twenty six years old,
So what's with the grey hairs?'
I said 'I toed the line too many times,
fell heart-first down some stairs.'
She threw her head back and laughed
Then stared me in the eye,
She held my gaze and took my hand,
And continued to breathe the lie.
A smouldering sheet of notepaper
Fell from the thirteenth floor,
A scattered dream, never found,
Heard knocking door to door.
The people in the street below
Whispered grievances into the night
A wind of change that gathered speed,
And set the words alight.
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