It was the 1800’s…London was a very bright and warm place…at least it felt as if I was…for the day t’was your wedding day…you are Shawn finch, a very clever boy, with a kind heart, forever Spilling with sympathy & kind Morality… But you see, That was not good enough For your bride… She found a younger man… And the left you at the Alter… You were devastated… Going sobbing into the night… Wondering why you were like this… Why would she defy your trust…you went to find why you were like this…to find yourself for who you truly are…you sat against an old oak tree…sobbing into your hands…when a voice called from a branch… “good evening sir…why so glum?..why so blue?..why so… positively full of dread, hm?..” The Voice slowly said Sounding As trying to hold a laugh