How many wrongs can I write – before the minute hand breaks?

Pump the accelerator

pedal push tha’ brakes.
Tap it touch it timid dim lit eddy trickle rip a dribble lick a thistle
whistle while you dial sonny – plaid like boys fly high on money
slouchin’ boundin’ bunny pouncin’ women convincin’ confidence pinchin’
Zed-like demeanor be mean or be meaner look at this ‘r that ‘r her, anything for envy, Sir.
Take a picture, take a pic, sure, take a picture, take a pic, sure.
Imagine aging like some mage in ancient Egyptian hieroglyphic inscription scratching memories with ease
chisel tap bing bang rows in threes
that’s how you spell Honey Bees

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