everybody hates the lonely
don’t let them tell you otherwise
you are having a nice conversation
then you see the desperation in their eyes
all the years of solitude
come rising up like foam
in the flickering beams of your sympathy
they finally see their way home
their dreams and sad opinions
flow through the night and into dawn
their clutching hands reach out to you
but you are already gone
perhaps when you lie dying
in a little room alone
you will give a thought to those desperate ones
and regret your heart of stone
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