Sitting on a bench so stiff, a crack beneath my feet, Journeys across a path to walk, a path made of concrete. Destiny plays a wondrous game should these feet ever greet To know a crack upon the ground could make a match so sweet. Dodge and twist through cluttered ground, find someone else to meet, Ending upon a pair of shoes inside a pair of feet. What's in store should I ignore and look the other way? Nothing more, the same old boring each and every day.