1701

MISS ME AND ABHOR MAN

The mood charade's on its best easter
And why I'd pie eye any boded sheer yes
Is anyone's mystery. Call th'electrician,
My little thrashing hate, call down
Tear after tear from the wall of autumn

And from that height I will send them. Montana
Is not the same as Wyoming, the viola
Is hardly a local morning news color reporter,

I'm telling you anything just to move my lips
In your direction, your directions, your
Decision. I open the bonnet and where
The engine was I find a bed of hay.