A cup, a man, a can. One of them can never be tan. Another is dumped in a pan. The last is used by people who prefer camping instead of catering to the rhyming expectations of others. Melt them all down and their dissimilarities flee, because they're all made of me.

One, two, three o'clock, four o'clock, we're gonna do this around the clock tonight.

You stare at me while I spin your food, as if supervision makes me work faster.

I fear the king is a polygamyst. For if I cross the line, I may become his wife

Blocks for Noelle And a punch to the face for mike