You walk around in your own special room,
Thinking of thoughts, and cooking up ideas,
Nurturing your mind until it's in full bloom,
Mentally designing your own chain of pizzerias.
Wondering, wondering, where are you going?
Walking and walking, just counting sheep,
What do I rhyme? Is it mowing or snowing?
Am I really boring you into an endless sleep?
That verse is over, it is time to start anew,
Writing and writing, and now this line is pending,
Now, O, now, "Finally," you say, I bid you, adieu.
The very last line is this, for this is the ending.
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