Too much hay on the fork.
Too many old cows in the water.
Too much Dutch in my mouth,
And I think I don’t get it.
You don’t say what you mean,
You make it sound fancy.
When you ask me how I am,
You demand a nonanswer.
And I know what it is always
What you want me to say,
But damn I don’t like lying.
Why do you make it that way?
You think you are nonconfusing,
You are mellow and relaxed.
But you have more rules
Than you have friends to tag.
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