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Created on: September 28, 2008
You, you, you,
You are a humdrum.
Me, me, me,
I am a feakazoid.
You, you, you,
You are late.
Me, me, me,
I am a sorry excuse for a poet.
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Poetry: Nonsense
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If elephants wore cardboard shoes
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If kangaroos could learn the waltz
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Baby, we might not be, the kind of folk
Who live on steak and taters,
Beans and cornbread, ain't too bad
Neither
Jabber some my say
But my sensible non-sense has its way
To get the point across
Ritalin they could use
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The Name Game
I met a lady in a bar
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Tonight I'll wake
to see the sun
And say "good morning"
to everyone.
I'll comb my teeth
and floss my hair
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