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It's a place you are sent when you haven't been good
And it's made of spikes and wood
And it isn't wide enough to sit
And even if you could
There are nails on the bottom
So you'd wish you'd stood
When the hinges creek
And the door is closed
You cannot see squat
Not the end of your nose
And when you scream you don't know if the sound came out
Or if the scream in your head even reached your mouth
