PP (07/23/1956 / United States)


Don't ask me, to tip joyously through the daisies, or look for little fairies. Quite frankly I'd find it a bore.

Your always in never, never land, without even going, out the door.

Your life's a parade, it never rains, expressed behind drawn window shades.

Let me refrain, with a clasical touche. Your life's like a painted clown. Wearing a red rogue simle for display.

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