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Foreign frends and fantastic foes,
Wheres Richard King, anyone knows?

Foreign tonge and Confusus storey,
Something we can all read for glory.
glory in life, preserved until,
The dootings stopped, people are still.

Remeber the time, they served us well,
the silent respect, under the bell.
Who the hell made up all the meaning,
Manners matter, what of the reason.

Zen is something I should employ,
Stare at the wall until someone tells roy.
When it drops – you’ll know it for sure,
God speaks to us – right through the door.

accuse my looseness, my failure at service,
My lifes ambition was not the circus.
I wanted to help, I wanted to make,
Didnt I prove, i wanted no cake.

But your timing sucks, your patience mucked,
your busy worry about your all you’ve clucked.
Never mind, who am I.
Just chuck me out – left under the sky.

So as my time draws to a close,
And the people here get predisposed.
I’d like to leave with a little thing,
An itsy bitsy fiddly ring.

Now the fingers free, the gold all sold,
And nows its the time for courage and bold.
Funny how – after all these years,
fifty dollars in gold and still in arrears.

arrears,
her ears,
there something with the dears.
I guess its not,
the parlament grot,
the darlamental should equal fears.

Doot!

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