Summertime well I guess it is time to grab those ropes again tie it on Ben, the black anchor while we tell you a story about the time our house began to move. It was Summertime little fishes swam in the glass market; just like the day skydivers dived without a parachute.
'It's a flood'
I knew my girlfriend showered too much. Now the mermaids of the sand threw sludges at our daughters and 'save tomorrow' fliers to the brothers. They called it global warming papa called it heat stroke.
Now a child has been given birth to in a lake and uncle Dan fed him pork where the Irish Bar Mitzvah took place in that same lake Dan said 'Jeez woman i don't like soggy cakes!'
But when winter comes; the successor of the distress that is autumn, my house will begin to glide until next summer
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