some people sing like sirens, deadly and cunning.
i speak like a sailor, in swears and chanteys.
will you cry then, cry to the sea?
the nymphs cannot hear you,
but will you cry for me?
people slip me sympathies
out of the palms of their hands.
i can survive on my own,
but they think i can’t.
i may be a bit rare,
that much i’ll concede,
but that doesn’t mean
i don’t care, when
people laugh at me.
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