io#wrote for luck

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I wrote for luck
They sent me you
I sent for juice
You gave me poison
I order a line
You form a queue
Try anything hard
Is there anything else you can do
Well not much
I know, I've been trained
I can sit and stand
And beg and roll over
I don't read
I just guess
There's more than one sign
But it's getting less
And you were wet
But you had a dryer
You used to speak the truth
But now you're liar
You used to speak the truth
But now you're clever

And I wrote for luck
And they sent me you
And I sent for juice
You gave me poison
I order a line
You form a queue
Try anything hard
Is there anything else you can do
And you were wet
But you had a dryer
You used to speak the truth
But now you're clever
You used to speak the truth
But now you're clever
And when it's hot
You start to melt
'Cos you're not made of cheese
You're made of chocolate
And when it's cold
You tend to crack
You keep on piling out
Not putting back
 
Before my grandmother in England passed away. I actually didn't write to her for a while before it and am wracked with guilt.
She apparent;y had no real idea of what was going on toward the end anyway, so at least she wasn't hurt.
I talked to her on the phone, but I know she liked aerograms.

I need to become a Catholic so I can get this off my chest.
:reject:
 
:angie: hug

My sister went old school last week and wrote me a letter. It was actually quite nice getting a letter in the mail. Much better than the usual bank statments and bills. In reality...she probably doesn't have my e-mail address and I know she doesn't have long distance, so this equals returning a phone call.

Hey Yertle.....you want a pen pal? I have read some of Kieran McConville's letters to Penthouse....outstanding stuff!
 
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