Tell me stories, of the kind, where the ending is well.
Pass potatoes in the forest, we've got miles ahead.
Present to the witness, a new pair of pants and a photograph.
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Jerry in the middle, kinda average, kinda plain. Bouncing through the city on his duty to reclaim. He's a body who's a body, jerry wasn't good.
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Shot down in the phillipines, didn't mean a thing to me. Carried off in the jungles, a hundred miles from sane.
