You Are...
You are the baking soda to my acid burn.
You are my royal title in this monarchy-less age.
You are the nearby stick to my poo-covered shoe.
You are the French checkbook to my American Revolution.
You are used by me and appeased by metaphors.
You are my royal title in this monarchy-less age.
You are the nearby stick to my poo-covered shoe.
You are the French checkbook to my American Revolution.
You are used by me and appeased by metaphors.
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