Obnoxious oranges smell bad for bandits,
They munch and are set in their munching,
Collecting, repressing and eating their way.
The fruit of a tree connects with branches
So badly kneeling in their very path.
The path stretches into the moonlight,
Fighting its way back and dancing in appearance.
The bandits have arrived with their dance,
Sizzling, spitting their food gathered by their
Fingers that are that smaller for you.
Let go of their oranges!
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