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the cracker that is my heart is crumbling
my stomach void of love is rumbling
but the gasses escaping show my affection
for never been licked and other lonely confections
the blood in my veins has turned to hard candy
I no longer consider myself "Hobbit Dandy"
for the dandy has been sprained right out of my soul
where a bongo once was there's now just a hole
and the orange juice flows without its true love
away from Grant's eyebrows from far up above
and away from the jokes of bar stools and dead babies
far from people like jon who have problems with rabies
away from the bongs that hide in the bushes
this orange juice is flowing by birch creekers' tushes
diez segundos counted before it went halt!
Jon's obsession with spinning was somehow to fault
as the rest of us sat in the lounge being corrupted
Greg wove tales of trouser-loss by mongeese, interrupted
Abby and Sarah counting diez segundos
they take out their bongos and slosh as the moon glows
and become rampant llamas eating jello and sweaters
And then Chris said that "showers are for quetters"
The winners at Birch Creek know this to be true
for they smell like an opening can of whoopass shizaroo
and even as bad as something between two pillows
the stench of our living is like armadillos
the boxing glove is getting too cramped for us all
and the breakdancing capability of the banana is much too small
the world is a bowl of gummi bears, like the boy's cabin
but they are to sticky and won't yield to grabbin'
by a boy smeared with lotion and a prominent nose
of magnanimous proportions - watch as it grows!
and ears that flap like pants in the breeze
he may be a cello, but you just want to seize
opportunity to be a nurse knockin' at the door
but zip up your dress, you cannot be a [slam]
as the door slams you can't help but feel spurned
you may be called Bacon but no lesson was learned
so hitch up your pants, and the other pair too
if you think that it's foxy, it just isn't true
but the foxy valley symphony is a different story
in dedication Brain Groaner took all the glory
Tennessee walking horses with hearses were in all our minds
and so were some kidneys...or was it greg's behind?
all that we know is it's never been licked
and Jin made it a mascot that none would have picked
by drawing fish attacking, yet friendship it conveyed
but sadly the tattoo on our hearts seems to fade
as two of us now sell silly string on the black market
Ill Mitch whips out his anger sword and, gosh, aardvark it!
None but the posse take a seat, so he does video pose 1
it seems on his bowels there's a weight of a ton
to make him feel better, chris lends him gramma's sweater
But it's filled with his hot air that stretches ev'ry letter
it has embroidered on it, in yarn up to par
that's right, read it: YAO SMASH RARR!!
it frightened away jon's shoes of duct tape
when he says "whaaaAAAAAT?" there is no escape
so in Jin's frustration she yelled "what the buck??"
with matters of boxing gloves we all have no luck
we turn all our bar stools over in anger
abby calmed us, peanut butter jelly sang her
And Charlie shrieked his acquaintance with David Amram
later, when in confusion, he screamed 'what the damn?'
we then had to explain how one rubs in their lotion
Myra hid in a corner in one quick-lightening motion
But the Posse still corrupted her young 8th grade soul
yet she turn out alright cuz we gave her a mole
as we sadly returned home, we remembered with a shriek
That all the best times are had when spent at Birch Creek.