Because of having his pull, all of them think so, a greenhorn he is though.
In the gate of our school, on the sly, your letters there. Or, in my anus, on the sly, your letters there.
On the snow field, by the back of his shell, A Kappa skiing.
At the path between rice field, laughing loudly, a lifelike doll also.
Swing like a pendulum, for attraction of enterprise, his failing.