From the deep south, where the scorching sun burns his aging face and sweat beads accumulate on his temple, to the upper east side, a fair young lady pampering herself with face creams that are just nonessential. Oh, the story of the wise elder man and the none the wiser young lady. Such contrary lives. Rugged leather skin, stretched out so frail, compared to her powdered rouge cheeks and beautifully painted nails. The lines on his face, lugubrious. But the lady’s face is caked with cosmetics, expensive and luxurious. Oh, the story of the wise elder man and the none the wiser young lady. Such contrary lives. He wore tattered clothes and worn-out shoes. Barely having enough riches to sustain himself. But the lady, she wore crisp taffeta and adorned so many embellishments in all shades of blues, unbeknownst of the hardships occurring outside her compact social circle. Oh, the story of the wise elder man and the none the wiser young lady. Such contrary lives. And so, the man has cracked callused hands from the hard labor he has to endure. When will it end? When will I finally settle down, face a new era in my life? But the lady holds a feathered fan, enjoying her carefree lifestyle and pursuing the life of a young wife. Oh, the story of the wise elder man and the none the wiser young lady. Such contrary lives. The man comes home after a tiresome day to croon his tales, the village children listen so softly to the tune. His voice, so velvet and pleasing, even the adults are in a trance. That same night, the young lady attends balls and extravagant operas, she will always sway and dance. Oh, the story of the wise elder man and the none the wiser young lady. Such contrary lives.
