“Hey, Harriet, Got a Lariat?”
Monday, call the dilemma a finale.
Explain with clarity what you ain’t
never gonna get. I tree, ergo I bush.
Don’t throw anything up, hun. He’s
a friend of the soup. High hopes for
the 12th of March. Mike arrives and
barks like a bird. That’s what it says
right here. Screw this, let’s go read
every stairstep. We need to get out
of this drama swamp. So we made it.
All the way to the heavening. There
were crepes and infinite frappes. And
purple tops and bell bottoms. Be at
the sweatshop at two 4 sick frivolity.
