There they go,
hand in hand,
arm in arm.
The hunting season is open.
The chicks are abroad.
The hunters are stalking.
Rivers of champagne
flood the minds.
The party rocks.
Who knows who?
It matters not.
There they go,
one by one,
two by two.
The celebration is always
the same,
and when it ends
it is like the beginning.
There they go,
hand in hand,
arm in arm.
The night is young.
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