Kind of like crickets in the nightWhen they first appearBut they don't get quietWhen you come near.You take a chanceWalking into oneWith so many sourcesOne has always just begun.Some are very subduedOthers speak loud when they arriveThere's ones you can't get away fromAnd make you wish you weren't alive.With so many around meDodging them has become an artSo the next time walk away from meStinky bastard, when you're gonna fart.
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