no mail today
nobody calls
too cold to play
outside these walls
nothing written
worth a damn
just a-sittin’
nothin’ planned
what’d they say
’bout idle hands
the devil plays
I understand
inspiration
missing, too
I guess I’ll do
the boogaloo
eat pistachios
play guitar
my moustachio’s
grown so far
comb and wax it
twirl it too
they wanna tax it
wouldn’t you?
brush the kitty
stop a sneeze
end this ditty
finish, please!
This is just brilliant writing. WOW!
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