Our lives weave a pattern A staff twined by adders Our mouths, sore to chew Now you’re eating for two Yesterdays, wine and song Are you very far along? What’s the dream to the bed? What’s the wreath to the Glorious Dead? Look at what I found in the dresser
No means yes Petrified forest
Dad gummit, gall dangit, dag nabbit You’re darn tootin’ tipping is Un-American Do you ever get the feeling that you’re being followed by a van? Yesterdays yet to come Win some, lose some