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Old crusty I think you thought you were Witty Clever old man But I can see you Looking down The slow, Sassy Mississippi Remembering boyhood days And you make me
I like to imagine Ganymede, famed wine-bearer of the pantheon, to be a skilled bartender despite his youthful naivete Perhaps his wish is, using his nightly tips, to care for his father
Dumb brunets can’t find their way to fraud, It takes gold to do that. They think you got kidnapped by God And his promise to Noah.