my I shall Still down predisposed star grimace and of garden to
my Father. So, do I, young vagabond, this Rolling stone eschew my
unyielding path is yet crossed by the Lord in derision? In my brain I feel
I should make an incision And up I lept quickly to go grab my
scalpel as the sun shineth down for all eternity Digit, digits,
digital, digitalis, I bumped my nose
Finish the day with bagels and lox