Such a sensitive opinion in one so young
Would you like to know about everything
That we've done
But you won't believe the evidence
You believe what you read in the printed lies
And yes I've done a lot of things
Of your own eyes
You'd probably call a crime
But I don't feel guilty for anything All the tongues waggle
That'll keep the little buggers
Going for a while But we just smile
. here comes some text which isn't printed
How, how you love it, how you love it How you love it, how you love it
You go out and you find it Just a little bit of broken glass
That this was done
Such horror, oh such a farce
You'll have something you can whine
You should think yourself lucky
About for years to come . All the tongues waggle .
Me thinks the lady doth protest too much .
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