At this time we can't feel close
As we've naught to see eye to eye
But, I'm not hopeless or morose
Nor am I given to outcry
I saw you on the street
And you looked away quickly
And when I ran up to greet
You acted stiff and sickly
Let not our bridge be burned
Neither at the head nor the end
That when to me you've returned
I can be counted as your friend
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