"Picking through the grass, to pick up broken glass, is not as fun as it may sound. Despite the rhyme, it will be some time, before the grass is free of the glass. Clear splinters, have their dangers, barefoot walkers beware; knowing my luck, I'll be the punk, with the bloody footprints to bare. I continue to pick through the grass, for the broken glass; so no one will have to bare, a clear splinter in the ass..."
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