my sleeping toys are ready for another kick they'll get some glue, some paste and a string and soon it runs in my head slowly I feel like a dunce...on holyday
my sleeping book is ruined under the rain I'll get some glue, some paste and a mare my hand is close to that figure slowly I feel like a dunce... on holyday
chasing a flee with a charming solid knife nails in the sand stuck to my feet
my clock is gone the weather rides a bike a stab a nudge staight to my chops and now it runs in my head slowly I feel like dunce... on holyday on holyday
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