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What a surprise, I think I am early,
Who’d prophesies that immaculate journey?
It’s all down to you, your ears must be burning.
Hold on (a lot) is what I’m now learning.
When one is late, there’s control and purpose,
Slow and sedate, the hare lost to tortoise.
When you’re behind, there’s plenty direction,
Prematurely arrive — confusion, dejection.
It’s rude and it’s discourteous, this much I know,
Henceforth please go first, on must go the show.
