On the phone they sound the same though they are not that kind of knot.
Pour the syrup and pore over the poor
waffles, Sir Phillip.
Wonderment in the words of the scene I’ve seen.
Passed by the past location I couldn’t see a thing
Knowing there they’re with their things
The confusing flour mill with flowers.
The pirate that sees the seas as an opportunity to seize.
Still I write my stationery while I ride my stationary.
I tell the principal of my principle points in life.
Like when I pared the pair of pear,
to eat without a knife.
I buy the ones by the apples and then say bye bye.
Shuffle and shoo away his shoe.
He’ll heal when his heel improves.
Oh! I wouldn’t want to owe anything.
Like the bald man who bawled.
When he sowed the seed, sewed the shirt, and so on.
This may seem like a seam in language,
and I’d have to agree.
I’ll tell you I’ve tripped, not one time or two, I’m admitting imperfection too.
Let’s pack together and form a pact.
Learners we’ll be. Wheels on a path.