Nope. I live alone in octopus’s garden in a yellow submarine where all you need is love. It would be great if we could come together. I want to hold your hand and sing with you. Then when I’m sixty-four I will say, “Remember yesterday when we would sing Beatles songs and run through strawberry fields forever.” With a little help from my friends I’ll get out of this submarine and- oh here comes the sun got to go.
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