Old Chicago
Conversations pass over my head
I watch the words fly by.
We are isolated by our age
But we find a niche of our own.
Sitting between strangers
But friends just the same,
The confusing energies are pleasant
And nothing is lame.
I watch the words fly by.
We are isolated by our age
But we find a niche of our own.
Sitting between strangers
But friends just the same,
The confusing energies are pleasant
And nothing is lame.
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