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I mean, like, I don't know personally,
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but I've heard about it from girls with small boobs.
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All kids pull away from their folks.
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When Trav was little, he ran away,
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ended up in Key Largo, and to get him back,
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I had to trade my soul with that Haitian shaman. Remember?
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Nope. First I'm hearing of it.
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Ugh! Stop!
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Now this is my sad. No piggybacking!
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Hey, I'm sad, too. My wife treats me like a dog.
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- And as a man... - Snore!
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My sad is sadder, right?