A ruffian or a common kid,
For seeking eyes the one that's hid.
Pirate or mutinous sailor,
Either way they sneer at his trailor.
The Class boffin or idiot,
Whatever, the bullies don't care that nothing is what he's got.
Deep inside he stares at himself,
Gazing through innocent eyes.
Forgiving all the ones on blood spilling times.
In his heart is what is him.
Not the maid that with money
Who would come to his every whim.
Not the amount of sweets he can buy.
He would try to stand against the tide,
Or light the signal bonfire.
For he could forgive those who made him cry.
He will stand by each prescious brother.
He would not abandon them.
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