When the end of the beginning cometh, don't touch the monkey with the three-ring binder. Singing in the rain mixed with a strawberry bagel and the next run-off of the water main hit by the saigon-city egg rolls and the super duper man. I wish I had it. Love me, love me, say that you'll love me. Hold me, hold me, say that you'll hold me. So good. And if i had the end of the beginning then it would work particularly well, mixed with the 3 ring circus. Please. Go now. No more time until the end becomes the beinning, and the end of the rear becomes the doughnut trooper and in either case the girls play at 10:30. If we lose, we're done. Bart City lost. Ouch. Don't foul out. Please. Oh no. You fouled out. Hurt. Hurt. Sometime we play like the buggart in the closet we're Lupin loves to dance with the rest of the town. I wish I had it. Please. Please man. I concur. No more love for you. No more. None of that for you and your facadic cape of regular escapades, fulfilled by a mixed-up capitalist. The end of the beginning we're the rest of the day ends. Man. Help the rest of the gadflies. So good.