the isle, eight flags, eight miles long, the song, you got a right to be wrong.dethrone the pony who loves baloney, we aint no mahoneys.a tender roni who could work for sony does a song, and we had a right to be wrong.wave a flag, thats all we had, cops arrest so fast they suffer from jetlag.the magzine carries my dream, i, it seems, have sent 50 poems, what does it take to get one on? all this prevaids my mind, as i watch from behind, the shrimp festival parade, and the huts decay, for a day.
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