Only take your stop, when you reach that mountaintop.
Walk or slither hither, either way you may just wither.
That suture don't suit ya.
But neither does the truther or that stupor nor the hoola hooper.
That sound bounds miles around
Town in and town out, highway to highwayBut never has the foolish rule-less thought once,
"The probability that certain jeapardy could be seen egregiously
is larger than the margin of truth to the aloof.
Hence formerly, the overall enormity was deemed astounding
sometimes sounding like a pounding pile of bile.
Meanwhile, your child is defiled, your winters ain't mild, style ain't worthwhile and the wild is reviled.
What makes cents to one man but dollars to another
don't match up to the love of your sister and your brother."
Fools don't walk alone or have no home
they forget themselves and don't know they're known
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