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A puddle of quicksand only shoe deep
If I was ant size I would weep
Giant birds walking in haste
Phones on ears what a waste
Voices amplified in subtle fashion
We have to know their every passion
Clowns rolling on the ground
On their nose around and around
Armies of butterflies began to dance
With their wings synchronized in trance
Lying in a puddle of mud
Seeing the trees starting to bud
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