Tangled up in blue? Gone with the wind? How to come back to Earth where there is heaven, leaven, no heathens? What's a heathen? It's a heave ho, a pirate walking the plank jumping off the boat, a witch she does not float, drowning in her own tar pit filth, waves of a giant lake that are flooding the shores, no sandy beaches of recreation, instead whipping waves snatching stones circulating them smoothing them, a simple stone? A diamond? Or a golden but not olden nugget. An oyster shell, to ring the church bell on Sundays. Listen carefully you'll hear the sea inside of a seashell. A crab meat not artificial, real true, honest, no deceit, a name that is real, legal and not imagined, reality, goodness, wonderfulness, a name that rhymes with Mary, as merry. Skip skip skip to my Lou, skip to my Lou my darling.
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