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There is a gas manager named Hank, Who puts his currencies in a bank. He values handling propane Over him handling methane. He stuffs his work shirt with a gas tank.
I have taken life I cannot giveI have pulled the veil of past shadows over meTo search for peace I have taken and cannot findBut still I reach, searching amongst distorted memories of what I must be
There was a blue creature called a smurf. His tiny mushroom home was his turf. One day, he picked up berries, And he's guided by fairies. He was itching because he had scurf.
Here's a villain named Robbie Rotten Whose bad deeds are nearly forgotten. He wants to continue sloth In order to hamper growth. His efforts are then misbegotten.
It starts with the whispers  Breathed into inhabitants' ears  The chilling wind-like purrs  They spread their material fears    "There must be more money!"  The voices belonging to no one sigh 
Hidden; hiding in the dawn of the day Scared; locked away in the basement all night Knowing that if you step out in the fray Death will surely find you, but not from fright In the end, you would just be a number
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