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Mathilda (Little Comets)

Oh decry, With these two fingers I can show you why, That I'm restricted, When you kiss me so promiscuously, I'll be screaming go-tilly-go, Oh delay, Without these shackles, I can show the way, To make you obfuscate, And push aside utensils, I'll be screaming go-tilly-go, When all this commotion, Dies down she'll deliver, A subtle soliloquy, Straight to his pillow, Which frowns as she strikes it, With fists that insist, The light of their fridge door, Was always a metaphor, I'm bewildered, So please explain to me, Right now Mathilda, How all the friction in your diction, Leaves me staring at you, I'm still screaming go-tilly-go, I'll decide, With these two fingers, I can show you why, Despite my lethargy, And mispronunciation, I'll be screaming go-tilly-go, When all this commotion Dies down, she'll deliver, A pointed soliloquy, So full of agony, He'll be embarrassed, And walk on the terrace, Whose slate floor he always found, Seemed like a metaphor, Aaiiii... P-r-o-m-i-s-e-s, The promises, P-r-o-m-i-s-e-s,