Romanticism and Transcendentalism

October 14, 2011
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Mowing The Lawn
Mowing the lawn is like death,
I have nightmares before bed,
I would rather be dead instead,
It smells so bad I hold my breath,
Id much rather be hanging out with Beth,
I hear the mower and start to dread,
I look down at the floor and hold my head,
I need help so I call my friend Seth,
Mowing the lawn sucks so much,
I get dirt in my eyes and mouth,
The grass goes in my socks and shoes,
I just step on the gas and release the clutch,
I should buy a goat and move down south,
But it helps me stay away from booze.

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