Still I fail to mention*
Our happy home
Here I face the last convention
I must fare alone
At the intervention I confess
I'll vow to hate the bottle
Yet I won't mean it
Though when you're merely half awake
You fear me
Daytona White
You're leaving me untied
Daytona White
In your closed hands
Two closed eyes
I tend to grace the bottom
Daytona White

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