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Ah, my friends, from the prison, they ask unto me,
"How good, how good does it feel to be free?"
And I answer them most mysteriously:
"Are birds free from the chains of the sky-way?"
-- Bob Dylan
I get up each morning, gather my wits.
Pick up the paper, read the obits.
If I'm not there I know I'm not dead.
So I eat a good breakfast and go back to bed.
Oh, how do I know my youth is all spent?
My get-up-and-go has got-up-and-went.
But in spite
🥗 -- 🥒 -- 😺 -- 💗 -- 🌏 -- 🎍 -- 💎 -- 🎈 -- 🥞 -- 🐠 -- 👽 -- 🌽 -- 🐳 -- ⛳ -- 💙