On the thirteenth of May a new love found its way
into the hearts of many who would dare to look
Perfection born from none but Heaven
A dangerous kind of simple pleasure
Too many dare to dream and think
So many love riddle fools have lost a bet
Taken to the streets in shame
Unrequited passion drives the young away
Sending them helpless into a state of being
Where none would dare to go and retrieve
However clouded the day may seem
None can say that I have lost my way
Walking on these cobbled streets in London bay
On this thirteenth of May
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