Oh Lord
I’m sor­ry to hear about your dog.
Her paw couldn’t do a lick of moves.
She can no lon­ger sleep, which makes sense.
I wish I could play the pia­no for her.

Oh my girl ! What ma do.
You see me as a chi­cken, your dog.
So maybe I am a sack of grief
but that pup was publi­shed in Cambridge
com­pa­nions to the dam­ned.

Ma gave the child the dog a bark.
I heard the dog.
I hated the dog.
The dog that I had real­ly loved bones eve­ry­day.
What a muck it made.

You’d think it was a group
but real­ly it was a luck under­dog.
Sometimes I got car­ried a why is that a duck ?
Why is that a duck ?
Every time I’m grilled I’m stum­ped.