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A brand new jar of pickled eggs
Glistening in a jar brine
After eating half a dozen
It might be doodoo time.
Some might have made decisions
not to eat all of them in the bowl
But I'm a pickled egg stuntman
Thats just how I roll.
The impending trouble brewing
my stomach gurgles and it growls
I fear the contents working
In my now troubled bowels.
Its bound to smell like oakland,
Newer than a bolt fans gear.
It just might be a bronco fan
being birthed from my burning rear.
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