Ah Shane ya poor wean da booze it opened yer beak an da muse she sits on it an da words come out all lured. An years a dis Shane years ta da point where she's long bin done wit ya long since taken wid her yer wee teeth ta show fer it shittin in yer maw now usin yer soul to wipe her ass. Ah Shane were da words wert it da craps in the pants like yer ginch were da priests da disappointed in touch wit da muse who came out ta see her boy kids dey were in da same ol love-hate wid da language an all dey got was yer drunken ass clinging ta da mic stand no different from da lamp post's hatred? Eh Shane? Eh? Ah ya fecken melter. My heart goes out ta yer ma an ta doze who loves ya.
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