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She caught the last train to Birmingham

I watched her leave and lie that she was not one of them

Because she was meant to be there,

But I had wounds that knew her through and through.

And life goes on but life like this is done far long before

The final whistle blows;

And men like us still stare and search for trains that pass

And stop and empty like our memories and cry out how we can not even have each other;



I hate and hate that she is no longer where I am

But I completely understand because I too have passed through Birmingham