ask me a question, i'll lie to your face
and there will be no moral disgrace
rhymes get me no further than you
with your heads lined on stakes
and your views all a-skew
and i turn my red cheeks
and my head full to quip
and i know your blood boils
as i loosen my grip
though your tongue it doth drip
from your fire bleeding lips
i smile a coy smile
and i drift off to sleep
where i dream of the day
when you sew what you reap
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