Among the steps where freedom walks
Along the road we took for granted
No longer in our groups well met
Back home inside we’re planted
Something’s stalking somewhere near
Seeks a place to make a home
A fly-by flitting pestilence
Where the warm unguarded roam
Hand to mouth will hitch a ride
Unless drowned in scrubbing soap
Expelled to catch a passing eye
Or where the grubby grimy grope
So keep away unclean we say
At least a distance of two metres
No shaking hands air kiss demands
Or touchy feel repeaters
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