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Would one argue less about a Rose in bloom,
Or of a witch riding on her broom,
Than about a man who would a President be;
There is little difference if we don't agree.
From horses in a race to a football game,
To the guessing of a Royal child's name,
It seems debate will not dry up like rain,
But like it will forever come back again.
If the world accepted that only one's thoughts were true,
That only one man of every topic knew,
Then why would the rest be given a brain at all,
And a tongue to argue the point at every call.
It seems to me the choices we have made,
Resulted from a kaleidoscopic hit parade.
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