Monday, May 15, 2006

Sing it, sisters!

They ain't ready to play nice:

I made by bed, and I sleep like a baby,
With no regrets and I don't mind saying,
It's a sad sad story
That a mother will teach her daughter
that she ought to hate a perfect stranger.
And how in the world
Can the words that I said
Send somebody so over the edge
That they'd write me a letter
Saying that I better shut up and sing
Or my life will be over

I know what gift my mother is getting as a (late) Mother's Day present.

- Badtux the Music-lovin' Penguin

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