SchoolLunch
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Everybody shuffle in line
Got your gold nuggets in hand? Teeth caps? Money signs?
Pile up the bread,
the fried chicken, the roasted chicken, the broasted chicken, the grilled chicken,
Four hours of tourcher have now passed.
The bell has now rung,
Everyone races to the lunch room.
Dashing and skipping to the front of the line,
Their eyes widen like a flower in the spring that blooms.
