Old tired earl grey
Misses his palais
His lady's colourful ways
Painting bright his days
Their teashop teardrops
Only set to ferment
Dull pains all forgot
By pretty sentiment
In his kingdom of defeat
Waiting on a reprimand
He never looked so meek
Holding onto her hand
In the city's shining greens
Their faces kindly engraved
Small and too sad to speak
Sunlight frames their decay
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