| narcism |
Kookaburra sits in the bulletholed tree,
Unknowing it's an old gunrange for me
Die, kookaburra die!
Kookaburra how short your life must be.
Kookaburra's dead by the big old tree,
Rotting now into the earth is he,
Rot, kookaburra rot!
Kookaburra your stench so sickens me. |
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