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Late is the Hour

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The night-time is weighted
It is forcing you down
Your sweat’s running cold
Through that threadbare nightgown

You lie there so stiffly
Your hands are as ice
You long for the stars
But the streetlights suffice

Your will is of iron
It has hardened your heart
You’ve acted out passion
Well played was your part

Think back on the words
You have spoken today
Close your wakeful eyes
Keep the guilt at bay

You fear retribution
From those held in your sway
The truth has come creeping
You cannot turn away

Now at long last
You have truly unwound
Your shoulders are shaking
But your sobs have no sound

For every injustice
There is a tick of the clock
Your store of excuses
Has run right out of stock





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