People judge
When you eat fudge
It gets stuck in your teeth
And you feel like a piece of beef.
They always laugh
When you cough,
They hate your style
And your little smile
And they gossip
about the stuff
in the magazines
with the limousines
Oh, there is no point
to this poem
about the broken
dreams and bones
So, time is gone
And we are done,
An hour's passed,
Let's go have fun!
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