The Suburbs Of The Rural City The suburbs of the rural city Were filled with trees, and fields so pretty Polluted by roads, and factories Smoke covering the beautiful sceneries Yet on the outskirts of the in And yet a flower growing in a tin It makes no sense For this moment of suspense To be so rural with cities So pretties With a cobweb growing in the clouds And a mob of clown-faced angry crowds With torches there To burn and scare With a goose fighting a hare You see It's makes sense to me Because I live In the suburbs of the rural city
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