Every morning, with half a heart he walks,
The postman to the ancient post box,
With an empty bag for letters and such
Coming in from the Russians and Dutch
(And everybody else too).
But instead of these faraway notes he fills
His sack with coupons, brochures and bills
Then with half a heart he walks away
To deliver a bill for somebody to pay.
He follows that up with a Spanish brochure,
...

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