A feather falls out,
of his left rear pocket,
nothing to rave about,
continues partying a rocket.

Turn out dry running of plumbing,
an end to days of running
a cease to a blob's that stopping
is always a child's **** lies.

Don't try to turn water on,
a freshly made little scone.
I said no to raspberry Jam,
not in any way, another jammed.

But excuses are just coughing,
playing up motions of the day.
I wish I could work out,
this song's they're are about
head-smart are drone flies,
Your scent of strawberries
and you never sprayed the fragrance.
They don't go to bed with **** lies.