Symphony
The faint flute flutters its fleeting melody As the piccolo does the same, but never Quite as loud. The tuba blares its brassy horns And the trumpet thinks to itself; It sounds like sh*t.
PoetryVerse
PoetryVerse
The faint flute flutters its fleeting melody As the piccolo does the same, but never Quite as loud. The tuba blares its brassy horns And the trumpet thinks to itself; It sounds like sh*t.
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