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- We could give the love speech to...- Look out!
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Sorry, right in the face.
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Brown? Brown!
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Oh, no!
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- What was that, toots? - Oh, no!
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If Mr. Keats and myself are strolling in a meadow,
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Lounging on a sofa or staring into a wall,
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do not presume we're not working.
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Doing nothing is the musing of the poet.
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Are these musings what we common people know as thoughts?
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Thoughts, yes, but of a weightier nature.
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Sinking thoughts?