Never had anything but bad bad feelings, falling off all rupe and reeling, go long! Cynical mess inside an empty bedroom, king came first and I'm the heirloom, what's wrong? A wall plug, broken bottom pron, unhappy right where I belong. Rolling down a hill. I'm thick with indecision, conscience guarded, likely rot in prison, maintain! Exchange of second hands a sort of ugly cousin, partridge in a pear tree I always was and I remain, a wall plug, broken bottom prong, unhappy right where I belong. Aforementioned sourness aside; I dug these trenches in which I reside.