It seems tremulous, when I clench my eyes,
But the more I strain, I realize;
All the little ones got it wrong,
The peace and quiet, is their acrimonious song.
It's the quiet riot, turns into a car parked in a driveway,
But driving fast is the way?
Then we turn again in time, Romeo in his scene one,
"Feather of lead", I cannot let the Contrived be done.
So, the thoughts of a poor sinner are aloft,
I have heard of an oxymoron, and I scoff;
What silliness would allow random speculation?
So, my sad smile, of the same difference in this direction.
The hero of the story will win the prize,
When the aggregated let him slip by;
If allowed, it won't be me,
Let it Be.
