you'll never find another sweet little girl with sequined sea foam eyes ocean lapping voice, smile coy as the brightest quiet span of sky and you're all alone again tonight; not again, not again, not again. and don't it feel alright, and don't it feel so nice? lovely.
Okay, first of all, who names their dinner? I don't want to know my dinner's name. This potato--is this potato named Steve? — Rick Riordan, The Sword of Summer
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