I meet a man of forty
Down in Soho Square
I know him so I greet him
He speaks of his despair.

The way that he is going
What could I do to save?
What future is there for him?
Nothing but the grave.

And then I look at pictures
Through a window pane
Of bare bottomed schoolgirls
Bending for the cane.

And then the notion hits me
One which strangely calms,
That all of my desires
Are like my legs and arms.

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