It's quiet on my floor except for the gospel ladies Just the smell of some wicked candles makes me thinks into the They wear light-rimmed hats and joyful smiles Who loved to run up the street branch And in the middle of it is a puddle of water Wind of faithful voices Your cat is a friendly brother who'd offer his heart with allegiance And if he could talk, we'd be best friends, the only friend he has is his food bowl And he bites away at your book hand for the commendable attention you give him And you cuddle for a half an hour and he dreams about his food bowl
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