up wrapping his farts, his yawns in the blankets,
striving on his lazing, his slow stretches, he rolls on the bed, waits for the banquet... a still mummy, lacking worries and edges. day in day out and nothing is achieved but for a new procrastination goal. night in night out and nothing is conceived... a wingless airplane than him has more role Who's that sloth, so tired of the not doing? He eats, sleeps, complains, jerks-off, sighs, repeats... born bum, who vagrancy is pursuing, I wonder how his heart keeps on its beats... Look! He stood up! and on his feet he goes! pat him on the back for stirring up his toes!
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