Please Pass The Varnish
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Supper has long been served, though since that voice was heard plates stopped appearing edible, while all salivation produced for the provisional surface below.
That set the gnawing to the table, while a draped cloth sweetened the taste between feeble jaws of ages five to nine.
Father ate just fine, picking his teeth of splinters flung far from bother.
Mother needs second helping to nourish for two, starts from the center and works her way through. Theres enough grub filling the room, chairs, cabinets and stirring spoons.
So take a place to eat your seat, come converge where strangeness sneaks.
Eating wood will fill you for weeks. Suitable, nutritious, and never far to reach.
A bite from the block is babytalk. Feast on the frame of your windowpane. Teeth, pleased to meet the floor carving round the corner and up the door.
Our mouths will all sore, so consider that last morsel all yours!
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