Winter ain't for dreaming babe,
It is for scheming, babe.
Out our neighborhood doors we'll strut, babe.
All bundled up, babe.
Like pretty packed peanuts.
In those big brown boxes.
And around we'll traipse like little smug foxes, babe.
Living out escapade.
wrangled and wrinkled.
Monday, January 31, 2005
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