rhyme worked 'til six
thirty the art room was
dirty and didn't get home 'til
seven no heaven seein'
bugs on the front porch
wanted to torch the damn
twits with wings call them
twings well let's
sing now cuz the working
day's over and de
spite the cubs' loss to the
pirates it's not on fire
it's the time for ya
hear me a cold one a
vic
t'ry
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