Now they’re going to bed
And my stomach is sick
And it’s all in my head
But she’s touching his _______
Yeah, I know. But the answer, somehow, is "chest."
I suspect it's a clever joke.
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In which I attempt to commit every blogging sin: writing incessantly about local trivia, sex, religion, and boring personal memories; giving unsolicited advice; offending all who read through crass assumptions. The works.
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