Reckon I’m the Pringles man, got so many chips on ma shoulders.
Fighting the illy jaundiced bitter man, lemon drops for pugilist pops.
Seen and done it all, think again drink again. Worst liverwurst.
Truism of the day is love is the way. Got lovely bones worrying tones.
Just accept little man accept except ex September rain, vanilla sky.
Fizzed out soda pop full of that pressure glots clots forgive me nots.
Ancillary twigs and berries, tools of trade geared to no one.
Just grinding away a way to weigh why. Why anything, why me?
The sorry question, excuse, son of dyson die son sun sol soul.
Heat waves pressure gauges, melting two peas in a pot.
Lost companion, deserted to the winds of time, time for new thyme.
Rosemary marry me merrily may reap sowed peas. Pod people.
Body snatch, change this one. Bulimia schema, pinta prima.
Uncontrolled movements, dreary instalments, emotionally insolvent.
Dining with strumpets, paranoid crumpets, obsessive couplets.
Twitchy bitch break necks, scalding hands and double checks.
Over shoulder looks, multi touch display, banging head array.
Lounge lazy cock crazy balk maybe angels save me.
Nasty self, disappearing self, help self, hurt self, change self.


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