Befuddled, Jet Lagged

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Once upon a midnight sleazy
I returned from the Big Easy
Dang, that rhyme just made me queasy
I won’t do it anymore

I’m so tired I make no sense
I’ve running on fumes and incense
And I’m dropping any pretense
I know what this poem’s for

Quoth Beleaguered:
Screw this, I’m going to bed

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