You fried under that heated lamp,
With a bush light can and a dad in my hand/
Sunrise, to sunset, a lamp lit by the bed side,
You got mad style and now my hands tied
To revolutionize banners, killing like cancers here are the factors
Service the discursive lurkers in the furthest mergers of a scary circus,
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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