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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2008-12-12 | | Submited by Corina Gina Papouis
Bloody men are like bloody buses
You wait for about a year And as soon as one approaches your stop Two or three others appear. You look at them flashing their indicators, Offering you a ride. You're trying to read the destinations, You haven't much time to decide. If you make a mistake, there is no turning back. Jump off, and you'll stand there and gaze While the cars and the taxis and lorries go by And the minutes, the hours, the days.
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