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Grim faced and forbidding |
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Their faces closed tight |
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An angular mass of New Yorkers |
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Pacing in rhythm |
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Race the oncoming night |
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They chase through the streets of Manhattan |
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Head first humanity |
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Pause at a light |
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Then flow through the streets of the city |
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They seem oblivious |
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To a soft spring rain, like an English rain |
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So light, yet endless from a leaden sky |
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The buildings are lost |
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In their limitless rise |
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My feet catch the pulse |
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And the purposeful stride |
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I feel the sense of possibilities |
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I feel the wrench of hard realities |
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The focus is sharp in the city |
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Wide angle watcher |
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On life's ancient tales |
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Steeped in the history of London |
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Green and gray washes |
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In a wispy white veil |
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Mist in the streets of Westminster |
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Wistful and weathered |
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The pride still prevails |
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Alive in the streets of the city |
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Are they oblivious |
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To this quality? |
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A quality of light unique |
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To every city streets |
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Pavements may teem |
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With intense energy |
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But the city is calm |
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In this violent sea |
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I feel the sense of possibilities |
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I feel the wrench of hard realities |
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The focus is sharp in the city |