I can see what I want, but I can't touch,
doorman won't let me in.
I'm the vagrant - dirty face and grungy clothes,
pressing my nose to the glass.
"It's never too late." But is that true?
It's like jumping out of a plane,
wondering if my chute will open.
Shouldn't there be hope beyond logic?
I want to defy logic - spit in its face!
Go beyond it - all the way.
To what?
I guess I'll find out when I get there.
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