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| I woke early one morning. The earth lay cool and still, when suddenly a tiny bird, perched on my window sill. It sang a song so lovely, so carefree and so gay... | |
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| that slowly all my troubles began to slip away. It sang of far off places, of laughter and of fun, it seemed his very song, brought out the morning sun. | |
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| I pulled back the covers, crept slowly out of bed and gently shut the window, and CRUSHED ITS FUCKING HEAD! I'm not a morning person! | |
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