The Fleetwood Phantom Cat
And I had a morning chat
Kind of weird or sad,
he looked at me and sat
on the windowsill.
I can remember still
those eyes. Got off the tram
and went back. Smiled at him.
He stroke me with his eyes,
Warm and sweet and wise.
Maybe 't was only mice
He thought of. But the skies
Opened their grey coat
It made me kind of float.
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