Caffeine, was like a strut down
Fear Street. The hunger joy of the
dog volunteer whistling Who songs,
was no act, on the way to the
Bosnian verses Blake match.
Past that old brown statue,
but he wouldn't snoop for
all the pubs in Newcastle.
Kick him in the Peanuts Me Old Son!
Grow your own Ball! Good Play!
- flying down the wing, until felled like a
Corona Stone. On 8 minutes, a booking.
At half-time: There's Class Lasagne,
Bird Pies, The Benefits of Charlie,
Hey, You Ate All the Glue!
The future saw your turn
with the fixer end the fun.
It ended one-all and no one won.