My words do not rhyme,
Not because it is a crime,
But due to a lack of time,
And the lousy clime.
You feel for the slime,
And snub the sublime,
All that I want is a dime,
For, I am in my prime.
Nonetheless, I will climb,
With a bottle of lime,
I will be stained with grime,
But, I hear the bells chime.
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