(I'm on vacation so I keep writingandwritingandwritingandwriting)
So you tell me my mid is becoming quite big.
What was once a four-pac can't even handle a lo-max.
You state we're growing together,
but if I jump on you you can't handle the weather.
There are claims of a new incline machine
and all this lard will disappear like sim salabine...
Then you offer me brownies and cheeseburgers,
what do you expect?
Yes, all the blame is off my chest.
Thank you.
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