my gourd is two shaded
Back in the days when boys were green with purple or brown hair, it was so much easier to say what was what. I don't know if your debts are deserved but there's no question that my interest payments have been accruing and deservedly so. Sitting inert hurts more than that dart to the chest sometimes, and I can't share the blame when none's been passed on to me. What'll happen when I can' t find the hiding spots? Heaven knows I can barely find them as it is, and don't know where to go once they've been uncovered. You move on to your own cave, and it's a womb ripe for increase that maybe I can see. But I just don't know if I'll ever be a good part, or just a lamented orange peel, all chewed up without any more juice. Maybe I'll get moldy and green, and dust away like spores on a dirt brown carpetbagger. But I told that aborigine that I'd soon remove myself from the fray and cook dinner for two from here on out. It's a step slower than that octopus walking through your department store hallway. When he looks in the curio, he's sad he gets laughed at, but heaven help him if he doesn't get the last laugh wrapping all eight arms around a fresh coconut martini. Umbrella shields him from those rays which fed him. Why is the source that feeds so deadly to his surface? SPF 45 and RPM 78 - listen to the frayed tunes as the sunrays bend the tones. You threw your arms to celebrate and dropped the tear that seared me. I thought I'd bake a nice loaf of banana bread, but all I did was burn the thing, and now it's not making sense, I guess I'm not looking hard enough, or maybe my eyes just aren't what they used to be.
Back in the days when boys were green with purple or brown hair, it was so much easier to say what was what. I don't know if your debts are deserved but there's no question that my interest payments have been accruing and deservedly so. Sitting inert hurts more than that dart to the chest sometimes, and I can't share the blame when none's been passed on to me. What'll happen when I can' t find the hiding spots? Heaven knows I can barely find them as it is, and don't know where to go once they've been uncovered. You move on to your own cave, and it's a womb ripe for increase that maybe I can see. But I just don't know if I'll ever be a good part, or just a lamented orange peel, all chewed up without any more juice. Maybe I'll get moldy and green, and dust away like spores on a dirt brown carpetbagger. But I told that aborigine that I'd soon remove myself from the fray and cook dinner for two from here on out. It's a step slower than that octopus walking through your department store hallway. When he looks in the curio, he's sad he gets laughed at, but heaven help him if he doesn't get the last laugh wrapping all eight arms around a fresh coconut martini. Umbrella shields him from those rays which fed him. Why is the source that feeds so deadly to his surface? SPF 45 and RPM 78 - listen to the frayed tunes as the sunrays bend the tones. You threw your arms to celebrate and dropped the tear that seared me. I thought I'd bake a nice loaf of banana bread, but all I did was burn the thing, and now it's not making sense, I guess I'm not looking hard enough, or maybe my eyes just aren't what they used to be.
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