Plymouth hoe.

Bus, train. Utters a waste time blurs.
Pork pie, cider bought and off we trot.
To a land we trust. Trust in love.
Train, train. Cutting through Cornwall
Southward bound. Not the past.
Future forward press fast forward.
Get me there on time. Promise made.
Brain, fuss. I think I burnt it fast.
Rush and stomp eating useless fruits.
No profit yielded saturated head.
Please make sure this lasts me!
2 chicks via South Africa.
Lush and fruity. Tanned to the limits!
From Frome Valley with apple kisses
Something will shake tonight.
Cool again at Liskeard pressing on.
Mason city blues cheers my head tight
Lessen the pressure as we fly
The 6 well dressed hens flutter by.
Walk, walk. Easiest and happiest.
But drunk on cheap vermouth cider.
Which must be good for Newquay?

Mind the gap in my mind
Gap the mind inside outside
Station awaiting train slightly
Drowsy and lightly damp.

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