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If you step on the lawn |
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I keep the foot, peep |
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In the pot go six degrees of cooked geese; |
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Boiling, blitz the beach of mushed peas |
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Over ten meathooks with a blister each |
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I'm all pincher, fevery hoodie-on hoodie-off |
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Sweat through his |
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E.T. sheets to the worry dolls |
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Never met a quiet storm |
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That didn't grow into a choir of colliding horns |
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That go click click clack in territorial syntax |
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Sitting on the porch with his lids pinned back |
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Pinball whiz in a thimble of sims |
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I'm a symbol of whimsy abridged |
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Kiss me, I'm dead; nursing a mystery |
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DayquilLed |
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Zep staring daggers down page mill |
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How pray tell do he sit pretty |
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When the old one-two unglue in a tizzy |
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Please hold for the don't-play dull boy |
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Click, I am not a page or a pull toy |
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Came in the door and the floor is lava |
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Killjoy if your core more |
|
Norman Rockwell |
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Born homesick for an invisible address, batshit |
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Bumble and bat around catnip |
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One black heart katamari massive |
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Packed in a fat category 5 rat nest |
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Nose on his sleeve, holes in his inner peace |
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Robot phone like a tentacle of flippancy |
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I hate you (I hate you more) |
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No I hate you infinity |
|
And Pangaea break into smithereens |
|
Interlude presto change-o |
|
If it move too quick oh-whey-oh |
|
Right brain go right train |
|
RamoMoustache any old |
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Monet, (no) |
|
Merrily merrily merrily merrily |
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In a cobweb tomb on a hotbed of heresy |
|
Frogmen schooled by the god |
|
Ed Emberley |
|
Pull dog sleds and exhume dead |
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KennedysBet, moth into kerosene awful |
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A caution to strawmen lost on vaudeville |
|
Amorally mixing business |
|
With a hundred and forty-four |
|
Dixie whistlers |
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Lawnchair strongman twisted whiskers |
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NASCAR Bic in his missing fingers |
|
Outcast from a system of kiss-the-ring-ers |
|
Are you privy to the misadventures |
|
It's electric, meeting in the middle of the street |
|
With a lethally modified piccolo pete |
|
There is admittedly an incredible mystique |
|
To meddling in the reason a city won't sleep |
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That ring ring ring whiz-bang jingle bells |
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And melt bootleg |
|
G.I. Joes to black taffy |
|
Classic fire-in-the-hole backdrafting |
|
Fold wildlife out of wolf pack wrapping |
|
Full moon, bad knee, wool hat, caffeine |
|
TNT plunger in all-caps |
|
ACMEBlast off half of the whole damn mapscreen |
|
I'm a patchwork of 86'd springs and gears |
|
Who been stung by an unlinked pinky swear |
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During his what-in-the-fuck-was- |
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I-thinking years |
|
Maybe an awkward phase |
|
Like his acne and sophomore fade, played |
|
Calling all out-of-work action figures |
|
It was death by saturn missiles |