| I liked you better when you fit in my pocket
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| Trembling so slightly I could fail to even spot it
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| Bite sized, still you had teeth enough to rend
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| The bites got bigger the more mouthfuls we tried to prevent
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| Didn’t even have to look you in the eye
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| God, they were awful eyefuls to behold
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| To be sure, they were not pure, those fetid springs we tried to cure
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| Still we rolled up our sleeves and went down with our sieves to the cay
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| The vacant gut
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| The manticore
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| I could only guess
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| The beast hungered for something more
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| Those yawning jaws
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| My dental awe
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| Three rows of incisors
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| And not a single flaw
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| Didn’t even have to look you in the eye
|
| God, they were awful eyefuls to behold
|
| They were rotten to the core, those loathsome fruit our orchard bore
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| Still at the first sign of drop we went out to the crop with our gloves
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| Don’t tell me 'bout all the flesh you’ve torn through
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| All the harems that you secretly are sworn to
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| Out comes the confession, now where’s the mystery?
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| Your history only serves to repulse me
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| Oh winged one
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| I’ll sleep while you eat
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| Just wake me up when you are done
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| Take to the air
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| If you must return for more
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| I swear I will not care |