Monday morning in the pouring rain, / I stood there waiting for another train. / I'm not the kind who goes against the grain, / But you know times are hard. / Well, I couldn't take it any more. / Things were too much like they'd been before. / I ran away and saw a sycamore; / Upon it was this sign: / Trespassers will be eaten. / Trespassers; day and night, no solicitation either. / I turned myself around the other way. / I wasn't liking what it had to say. / The air was muggy and the sky was grey. / It's better on the train. / And since Thanksgiving is coming up, / I left my body for a paper cup. / The water's warm, but when it all dries up, / I feel empty inside. / Trespassers will be eaten. / Trespassers; day and night, no solicitation either.
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