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"Hm."
(Pause-break) x72
"Oww'right... Let's get i-"
[overpowering sound of entire audience of women cheer+screaming]
(Pause break) x8
[Silence befalls the audience]
Let me make this mess sort-a less-or-more
on-a sort-a re-itter-ay-tin'shun all these sore
sons - till they come to my lane with they guns
but by now they all know the way it runs
my proof-type life, with my rain-out guns
teachin's of east'in's name-sake-staking'n remainin' in the same-lane as
one
so when you come 'round to my hopped-top
you better bring "none"
otherwise you'll be stripped down, dumped
in a dessert like a bigoted dreamer on the run