Surface of this mess
I think you are the best
You come and go as you please
The ill are never your sleeve
So make my soul braid hair
I know you want me there
This sleeve is more than grand
The will has never scanned
The document on my door
I liked some of them more
But liberty has a pen
And days come to an end
So if you like a good share
The physician your friend is certainly there
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