Showing posts with label Original Lyrics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Original Lyrics. Show all posts

Jun 5, 2013

Lyrical Satirical: Maybe That's What Ol' Hank Had in Mind


I wrote this tongue-in-cheek lyric more than a decade ago with Tim McGraw being the unspoken target. Sadly, it rings truer than ever now.

Maybe That's What Ol' Hank Had in Mind
(©2001) FTM Satires

[v.1]
They slap a hat on any guy
with a drawl and handsome grin
Produce a half pop album
to sell in the country bin
Book him for the Leno show
then a grueling two month tour
Promoting his big single
It'll go Top 30 for sure

[Lift]
Some folks say it's a crying shame
what's been done to Music Row
They should keep their opinions
Cause some things we'll never know

[Chorus]
Maybe that's what ol' Hank wanted
But he never got the chance
to leave the Opry stage behind
To shake his hips and dance
So Nashville looks like Hollywood
and country songs don't whine
It's alright 'cause
maybe that's what ol' Hank had in mind

[v.2]
Can't you see the old troubador
with a jet plane and limousine
Laser shows at his concerts
and talks shows the days between
Cutting songs about making love
Then primping for photo shoots
Who's to say that ain't country
'cause we don't really know the truth

Maybe that's what ol' Hank wanted
but he never got the chance
to leave the honky tonks behind
to shake his hips and dance
So Nashville looks like Hollywood
and country songs don't whine
it's alright 'cause
maybe that's what ol' Hank had in mind

[Tag]
Some folks say it's a crying shame
what's been done to Music Row
but I'll keep my opinion

cause some things I'll never know

Jan 28, 2013

Same Ol' Song

I wrote this lyric before the days of Farce the Music (or Photocrap, for that matter) and unfortunately it rings truer than ever now. And yes, I name dropped... but it fit the theme - I wasn't doing it for fake country cred.



No Country on the Radio

I was in the mood for a drinkin' song
Some guy cryin' over love that's gone
So I flipped through a dozen stations
I shook my head I couldn't find a thing
No sad fiddles, no whiskey, no twang
And came to the sad realization

(Chorus)
There ain't no country on the radio
No steel guitars, nothing sad and slow
It's happy slappy joy joy
From little girls and pretty boys
Singin' pop songs in a row
But there ain't no country on the radio

I caught the tail end of Shania Twain
DJ said that's the classic of the day
I almost drove off the shoulder
The next song sounded like a Hallmark Card
Some whiner rhyming "heart" with "apart"
I know Waylon just rolled over

('Cause) There ain't no country on the radio
No steel guitars, nothing sad and slow
It's happy slappy joy joy
From little girls and pretty boys
Singin' pop songs in a row
But there ain't no country on the radio

Bridge
I found an old truckstop with a $5 rack
Bought some Yoakam, Paycheck and Hag
The channel may be clear but I ain't comin' back

(Alt Bridge)
Hootie, The Eagles, Bon Jovi, oh my
I know where old rockers go to die

('Cause) There ain't no country on the radio
No steel guitars, nothing sad and slow
It's drum loops and big guitars
Makes me wanna crash my car
God I miss George Jones
There ain't no country on the radio


©2007 Corey Parkman

Nov 1, 2012

Lyrical Satirical: Taylor, Maybe It's You


Maybe It's You
(C)2012 FTM

If your fairy tales are more like old Greek tragedies
If your Prince Charming's always Mr. Wrong
And all of your love stories end on TMZ
Just more fodder for your whiny songs

Chorus
Maybe it's you
Who should get the blame
Maybe you like standing in the rain
Look inside yourself
And you'll see it's true
Can't always be them so maybe it's you

If every break-up ends up as a clever rhyme
If every star you meet, you fall in deep
And gossip mags make millions off of your behind
Surely you know what you sow you reap

Maybe it's you
Who should get the blame
Maybe you just get off on the pain
Look inside yourself
And you'll see it's true
Can't always be them so maybe it's you

Bridge
It can't be coincidence
Just a mean financial plan
Who's gonna be your next number one
Cause they'll never be your man

Maybe it's you
Who's never going to change
If every different romance ends up just the same
Girl you never grow up
Billboard's got the proof
Who's treacherous? Just maybe it's you
Yeah maybe it's you

Aug 23, 2012

Lyrical Satirical: The Country Listing Song



The Country Listing Song
©2012 FTM Satires

Kudzu on a city limit sign
Pasture party past the county line
Jack and Jim
And redneck friends
Bonfire, tailgate, melon rind

This is the country listing song
Come on everybody, sing along
Scream "hell yeah" if you're country strong
Say I ain't country, I'll prove you wrong
With this here country listing song

City folks and cities suck
I like bass fishin' and whitetail bucks
Hank and Strait
Barbecue plate
Hot cousin in my pickup truck

This is the country listing song
Come on everybody, sing along
Scream "hell yeah" if you're country strong
Say I ain't country, I'll prove you wrong
With this here country listing song

Bridge
Jesus, mama, American way
Small town, love, some other cliché

This is the country listing song
Drink Bud Light till the night is gone
Trim your beard with a shaver from Braun
Try Medifast, tell that gut "So long!"
Get I Heart Radio on your iPhone
This is the country listing song

Apr 12, 2012

Smells Like Country


When I found out Randy Houser's new single is called "How Country Feels," that set my twisted mind in motion.

















Smells Like Country
©2012 Farce the Music Satires

When I drive my pickup down Poontang Road
Tossin' out a big ol' garbage load
Deer guts and empty bottles of 'skey
Man, that smells like country to me

When I scare up a skunk in the soybean field
And catch a whiff of the old paper mill
Cut a big fart cuz I ate baked beans
Man, that smells like country to me

Chorus
Yeah, that's the odor of the rural route
Them's the scents I'm about, ya see
Hey city boy, it ain't foul it ain't funky
Naw, that smells like country
to me

When my woman's  been mowing in daisy dukes
She gets me a beer and takes off my boots
And we make sweet love on the pleather seat
Man, that smells like country to me

(Chorus)

Bridge
Dead fish rotting in the Okatoma
Cow crap's such a sweet aroma
Chitlins, moonshine, Ford exhaust
If you don't like it, that's your loss

Cause that's the odor of the rural route
Them's the scents I'm about, ya see
Hey city boy, it ain't foul it ain't funky
Naw, that smells like country
to me

Jan 16, 2012

Cliché Country Love Song (satire)


Cliché Country Love Song

I met a farmer's daughter wearing cut off jeans
Tan lines, southern drawl, long and lean
Took her to a movie then the Dairy Freeze
She moved in closer on my old bench seat
She said her daddy didn't like my kind of guy
I asked "What the hell you mean?" with an evil eye
She said I was an outlaw and my thinkin's slow
So I kicked her ass out on the side of the road

This ain't no cliche country love song
If you're thinkin' cards and flowers, you're thinkin' wrong
Love is good, but it rarely goes
Like it does on Clearchannel radio
Hell no, this ain't no cliche country love song

I married a woman who was my best friend
Didn't have much money, but forever to spend
We saved what we had for a house on the hill
A porch swing to kiss in, a garden to till
Till one day the doctor gave us the bad news
I told her, "Baby I'm gonna love you through"
She said "Boy, you're the one's gonna need the love,
"Cause I'm gettin' gone if you can't get it up"

This ain't no cliche country love song
If you're thinkin' I'm love's martyr, you're thinkin' wrong
Love is good, but it rarely goes
Like it does on Clearchannel radio
Hell no, this ain't no cliche country love song

This ain't no cliche country love song
If you're thinkin' cards and flowers, you're thinkin' wrong
Love is good, but it rarely goes
Like it does on Clearchannel radio
Hell no, this ain't no cliche country love song

May 18, 2011

Satirical Lyrical: Suburban Outlaw

Suburban Outlaw
©2011 FTM Satire

I never drive less that ten miles past the limit
Sometimes I log on Facebook just for unfriendin'
I hide Skoal from my wife in the glove compartment
Sometimes I blame other folks when I did the fartin'

I'm a suburban outlaw
A Durango drivin' desperado
Got a backlog of parking tickets
If my nose has a boogie, damn right I pick it
That's how I roll, y'all
I'm a suburban outlaw

I'm a dangerous man spinning four bald tires
Sometimes I drink milk that's two days expired
Half of my music collection wasn't paid for
I dump grass clippings in the yard of my neighbor

I'm a suburban outlaw
A light beer buzzin' desperado
I flirt with every Hooters waitress
If I want a hotel robe, damn right I take it
That's how I roll, y'all
I'm a suburban outlaw

Bridge
I'm public enemy number five-thousand eight
Sent Black Swan back to Netflix two months late
My fantasy football team has a dirty name
Association dues ain't paid, you know who to blame

I'm a suburban outlaw
Yell at the coach when my son plays baseball
Sometimes I like to crank Limp Bizkit
Pretend I'm not home to a Jehovah's Witness
That's how I roll, y'all
I'm a suburban outlaw

Apr 13, 2011

Country Girl A**: a satire

Country Girl Ass
©2011 FTM Satire

Verse 1
You may surprised to realize
Us country boys get country high
On country girl anatomies
The way they walk, not how they talk
We focus on badonkadonk
If you know what I mean

Build
Butt, I ain't one for subtlety
Hick chick heinie is what I need

Chorus
I love country girl ass
Conversation? No, I'll pass
I love country girl ass
Personality comes last
I'm all about that rural behind
Matter over mind, I'll tell you fast
I love country girl ass

Verse 2
Hey, country girl, shake it for me
That cushion where your thighbones meet
Your dirt road derriere
And I don't care what you've got on
A short skirt, Lees or a little thong
Long as you got junk to spare

Build
And I don't want to date you girl
Just give that gluteus a whirl

Chorus
I love country girl ass
Be a gentleman? No, I'll pass
I love country girl ass
Coveting booty, that's my task
I'm all about that rustic rump
Just make it pump till you get a rash
I love country girl ass

Bridge
Now I like Jesus, I like NASCAR
And American red, white and blue
But I love the place where your flesh parts
I wanna railroad your caboose

I love country girl ass
Posterior baby, or I'll pass
I love country girl ass
I prefer a thick-figured lass
I'm all about that backwoods butt
The place God cut the kindest slash
I love country girl ass

Jan 25, 2011

Screw the Working Man

A satire lyric...

Screw the Working Man

This one's for you Mr. Mack truck guy
Popping pills on your cross-country drive
Skipping weigh stations, skipping sleep
Lot lizard humping, ass-riding creep
Some folks they might honor you
But here is my one finger salute

I say screw the working man
Getting away with all he can
Givin' his time but not a damn
So I say screw the working man

This one's for you on the graveyard shift
Working to support your seven kids
Join the union, ain't gotta do shit
Take fifteen breaks to smoke and bitch
Some folks, well they might say "cheers!"
But I'd like to kick your rear

I say screw the working man
Getting away with all he can
Givin' 40 hours but not a damn
So I say screw the working man

Bridge
You boys in blue know what I mean
On patrol at the Krispy Kreme
You teachers having sex in class
You farmers sitting on your ass
Office workers surfing the porn
Oil rig workers soiling our shores
You make this great nation a wreck
But thanks Obama, for my monthly check

We say screw the working man
Who won't give folks like me a hand
Me and the Prez got different plans
Yeah, we say screw the working man

Yeah, screw you!

Oct 5, 2010

This Party in the Country Rocks (a satire lyric)

This Party in the Country Rocks

Field full of rednecks, check
Girls in cut offs, yep
A big ol' bonfire... what you expect?
Oh, we're way out
on the rural route
Predictably raisin' heck!!

Chorus
This party in the country rocks
Raise up your cups and shout it
You know this party in the country rocks
Because I'm singing about it

Got Coke in our whiskey, man
Got ladies with full body tans
Muddy pickups that cost thirty grand
Don't tell your maw
And here's a yeehaw
Let's build a cliche out of cans

This party in the country rocks
Turn up Bocephus louder
This party in the country rocks
Because I'm singing about it

Bridge
It's like every party you've been to, except cooler, ya know
Cause I'm sponsored by Bud and I'm on your radio

This party in the country rocks
Raise up your cups and shout it
This party in the country rocks
Kick your ass if you doubt it
This party in the country rocks
Because I'm singing about it

Yes I am




©2010 Corey Parkman

Sep 30, 2010

Grandaddy’s Advice (a satire lyric)


Here's a silly little satire of all those "dad's/granny's/grandaddy's" advice country songs.

Grandaddy’s Advice

v.1
I remember when I was five
Playin’ in my grandparent’s drive
I fell off my scooter and skinned my knee
Grandaddy helped me clean my cuts
He whisked the gravel off my butt
Then he smiled and gave this advice to me

c.1
Old Milwaukee makes me sick
Run go check yourself for ticks
Y’know that youngest Golden Girl sure looked nice
Then with a tear in his eye
he said I love me some squirrel pie
That’s why I never took Grandaddy’s advice

v.2
I remember in seventh grade
Ridin’ in grandaddy’s Chevrolet
He pulled over and said it was my turn
As I slipped into the driver’s seat
and felt the pedals under my feet
Grandaddy smiled and said “It’s time you learned...”

c.2
Look both ways before you leap
Damn my drawers are startin’ to creep
How do they make them Crispies out of rice?
Then with a somber voice
He said urine cures hemorrhoids
Thank goodness I never took Grandaddy’s advice

v.3
Ten years later I heard the news
Grandaddy’d flown his earthly coop
Died in his sleep with a big grin on his face
At his service I said a piece
Told some advice he’d given me
And I could almost hear his voice say...

c.3
Don’t pee on an electric fence
Look I just found thirty cents
Pour me some V-8 and vodka over ice
The Lord knows I loved that man
but I’m sure you all understand
That’s why I never took Grandaddy’s advice

(tag: in a sad voice with minimal music backing)
Old Milwaukee makes me sick
Run go check yourself for ticks
Y’know that youngest Golden Girl sure looked nice
Then with a tear in his eye
he said I love me some squirrel pie
Now I sure do miss Grandaddy’s advice



©2003 Corey Parkman

May 23, 2010

Lost-centric original lyric

Admittedly these are sappy enough to be the lyrics of a Jimmy Wayne song, but in honor (or to the detriment) of the final Lost tonight, here's a lyric I wrote a few years ago based on this scene. Yes, I'm a dork. Read my other post today if you want actual (?) humor - this is only unintentional humor. A Bucky Covington Top 10 tomorrow... and Alt-Country Day 4 later in the week! Ta ta, I'm off to geek out!


Go Back There

Old habits die hard, I guess
Why'd you call me? is all she said
Over the roar of jets above their old meetin' place
She told him that he looked like hell
If she'd missed him, he couldn't tell
Who knew how she felt, all the makeup on her face

He'd been chasing the lowest highs
Every weekend takin' flights
Everything he could try, praying to be lost again
Maybe where they'd come back from
Was no damn good for either one
But here now in the long run, he longed for where they'd been

(He said)
I wanna go back there
We weren't supposed to leave
I'm tired of lying
Living is dying
I wanna go back there
Want you to go back there with me

She said He'll wonder where I am
He said this wasn't in the plans
Stood there a trembling man, cryin' I'll find a way
Then before she turned to leave
He could read the uncertainty
There in her eyes, as she said "This ain't gonna change"

(He said)
We have to go back there
We weren't supposed to leave
I'm tired of lying
Living is dying
I wanna go back there
Want you to go back there with me

Bridge
Her taillights lit his eyes
But he knew this goodbye
Wasn't for good
She understood

We have to go back there
We weren't supposed to leave
I'm tired of lying
Living is dying
I wanna go back there
Want you to go back there with me


©2007 Corey Parkman

Apr 5, 2010

Satire of country music Saturday night/Sunday morning songs

Note: This is a satire.

Play Hard, Pray Harder
©2010 Trailer satires

Saturday night I get my truck waxed up
Head down to the bar and drink a cup
And do some lines of coke
Came in with my girl but left with my ex
Had some public unprotected sex
Gave her clap but she don't know

Chorus
I play hard, so I pray harder
Sunday mornin' I ask the Father
To forgive me of my sins
Then I go and do it again
Yeah, I play hard, so I pray harder

Sunday mornin' in the Baptist church
Track marks achin' and my head it hurts
Singing Amazing Grace
Thinkin' 'bout fightin' the night before
I hope the cops don't find the corpse
But the Lord says it's okay

I play hard, so I pray harder
Sunday mornin' I ask the Father
To forgive this sinner's soul
For smokin' a big fat bowl
Yeah, I play hard, so I pray harder

Bridge
I love Jesus and the US of A
You know what I mean?
But I like gun runnin' and gettin' laid
So thank God I'm redeemed

I play hard, so I pray harder
Sunday mornin' I ask the Father
To forgive my dirty deeds
My arson, lust and greed
Yeah, I play hard, so I pray harder

Feb 3, 2010

A satirical country lyric

If You Say I'm Not a Country Boy

If you say I'm not a country boy
I'll show you that's a lie
I'll crank my truck and shoot a duck
And spit Beechnut in your eye

If you say I'm not a country boy
You 'bout to learn the facts
I'll play some Hank and drink a drank
And wear jeans that show my crack

Chorus
So don't you go and disrespect
Homie I'll put your *ss in check
Ride up in my one-five-oh
Leave you bleeding on the flo'
Singin' "Oh you didn't know?"

If you say I'm not a country boy
Better own a graveyard plot
I'm country bred, my neck is red
And I'll leave yo wangsta' ass shot

(Repeat Chorus)

Bridge
Never mind these hip-hop beats
And these urban dictionary words
Cause I'm country as Strait
Got a Nascar plate
And I can whistle dixie, ya' heard?

So, think twice before you disrespect
Hater, you best come correct
Ride up in my one-five-oh
Leave you bleeding on the flo'
Singin' "Oh you didn't know?"

Tag:
If you say I'm not a country boy
Say I'm not, b*tch!
Oh no you dih–int!!



©2010 Corey Parkman

Dec 30, 2009

Redneck Resolutions

Redneck Resolutions

Done made it through another twelve
Still sane and in one piece
Only spent a month in jail
Been good since I's released
But this year as the fireworks fly
i feel a little strange
And it ain't just this Miller Lite
Naw, it's time i made some change

Chorus
Next year I won't drink Jim Beam ...on the way to church
And I guess I'll quit dippin' ...this tumor reallly hurts
Won't git rough with my woman ...unless she hits me first
Come on new year, big boy, do your worst

Almost got the trailer paid off
And the boy's bout done with school
Plan for his future like I ought
I'll buy him a set of tools
Gonna be nicer to my ex wife
I'll tone it down to "witch"
And if I go road hunting at night
I'll at least park in the ditch

Chorus
And next year I won't drink Old Crow ...till i get off of work
I reckon I'll quit smokin' ...my lungs feel like they'll burst
Won't cuss loud at the Walmart ...and I'll stop stealin' Certs
Come on new year, big boy, do your worst

Bridge
Raise up your tall boys, here's to the future
These are my redneck resolutions

Next year I won't drink so much ...on the way to church
And I guess I'll quit dippin' ...this tumor reallly hurts
Won't git rough with my woman ...unless she hits me first
Come on new year, big boy, do your worst

Come on twenty-ten, do your worst



©2009 Corey Parkman

Dec 12, 2009

Happy Non-Specific Winter Holiday

An original satirical lyric from FTM.


Happy Non-Specific Winter Holiday

It’s that festive time of year again
Kwanzaa, the birth observance and other events
Shopping facilities are challenged for space
There’s an upturned expression on many a face
Hang out red ceremonial footwear
The kinara or menorahs with peace and care
Light the candles or holiday tree
Here’s a hopeful salutation to you from me

Have a happy non-specific winter holiday
Hear the appropriate musical selections play
Observe your chosen rituals
Be kind to all individuals
Have a happy non-specific winter holiday

Please be sensitive to everyone
Jewish or Christian or those of no religion
Make certain to be careful with your words
Disharmonic greetings can cause other persons hurt
If you choose to give gifts, please be kind
No red or green wrappings, they exclude the colorblind
If you wish to spread tidings of unity
Be sure to offer this ode to each person you see

Have a happy non-specific winter holiday
Hear the appropriate musical selections play
Observe your chosen rituals
Be kind to all individuals
Have a happy non-specific winter holiday

Bridge
Well, the tofurkey’s almost ready
And the organic dressing is too
My lifestyle family unit
Offers this formal wish to you

Have a happy non-specific winter holiday
Hear the appropriate musical selections play
Practice your preferred methods
Of celebratory acceptance
Have a happy non-specific winter holiday



©2004 Corey Parkman

Nov 16, 2009

She's Countrier: A Satire

This is a send-up of all the "my woman is a real country gal" songs... (She's Country in particular)

She's Countrier

v1
She was breach born in a Silverado
Raised in shed in a backwoods hollow
Fed cold collards, cheese and pimento
Smelling pig crap every time the wind blows

Lift
Yeah, we're from the same bloodline
But the reason that she's mine

Chorus
She's countrier
Than a muddy ol' fat sow
She's countrier
The girl can work a plow
You wanna see cornfed, better come see her
Your girl might be country but she's countrier

v2
She drinks moonshine like its faucet water
Wears cutoffs to church, no she shouldn't oughtta
She yells "Yeehaw!" everytime she sneezes
Got a rebel flag tatt right next to Jesus

Lift
That's right, the girl's got class
Can get a coon treed real fast

Chorus
She's countrier
Than a poison ivy rash
She's countrier
Name on every overpass
You wanna see a yokel, better come meet her
You might know some country but she's countrier

Bridge
She loves America and Camel cigarettes
All three of the Hanks and cooking up meth

She's countrier
Than ol' David Alan Coe
She's countrier
Than a homemade garden hoe
You gotta hike through kudzu to come see her
You've been to the country but she's countrier

Aug 16, 2009

Drunk old men in bars = our greatest philosophers?

This is a satirical lyrical take on all the "old man/drunk old man in a bar imparts great knowledge upon a young man having love troubles" songs. I'm looking at you "People are Crazy."

What the Old Man Said

Was on the outs with my lady
So I checked myself into a bar
Ordered up a seven and seven
Set fire to a Cuban cigar
Old drunk struck up conversation
Asked "What are you here to forget?"
So I told him of all my problems
And this is what the old man said

These days I wear diapers
Cause I can't hold it in
Spongebob is my hero
Sweet taters make me grin
Women, they's all bitches
Now Jack Daniels is my girl
I believe in UFO's
Oh, think I'm gonna hurl


I pondered on his thoughtful words
Smiled at the wisdom therein
Ordered up a seven and seven
For my philosophical friend
He talked the new world order
And how he wished his name was Ted
Then I noticed a tear in his eye
And this is what the old man said

I like to play Atari
Global cooling is a scam
Yes I wear a Speedo
When I slice deviled ham
Jack Ingram is my savior
Could you scoot your stool up close?
Penis rhymes with Venus
Would you butter my rye toast?


Bridge
I never saw that old man again
Till the day I heard he was dead
He'd left me a note, some nugget he wrote
And this is what the old man said

"Bye"


©2009 Corey Parkman

May 28, 2009

The truth about hometowns

So many songs these days extoll the simple pleasures of that quaint lil' idyllic hometown we all come from and long to go back to if we have a soul at all. It's where the the dirt road simple life makes everything okay, where folks wet a line at the crawfish hole, where Saturday night's sin must be prayed about at Sunday morning's service, where the cancer-stricken brother wants to leave this mortal coil, it's a little slice of heaven on earth. Really? Really? Here's the truth. 

My Hometown Sucks

Went back to visit for a few days
Where I’m from, smalltown USA
I pulled in as that big ol’ warm sun fell
Felt a feeling coming over me
Not quite sentimentality
My stomach turned from that old familiar smell

My hometown sucks
My hometown sucks
I miss it like I love a kick in the nuts
My hometown sucks
My hometown sucks
It's a charming mix of hicks in trucks
So much for nostalgia
I don’t know about ya
But my hometown sucks

Every corner you can cash a check
The potholed streets will make you wreck
And Walmart's the only store that's left in town
The kids cook meth on Saturday nights
The quickstop just sells Natty Light
And the homecoming queen, she weighs three hundred pounds

My hometown sucks
My hometown sucks
Drive down mainstreet, you might get mugged
My hometown sucks
My hometown sucks
If you say hoedown, the girls all duck
So much for nostalgia
I don’t know about ya
But my hometown sucks

Bridge
Sure the pace of life is slower
But so is the pace of mind
It's no wonder we always used to drink ourselves blind

Cause my hometown sucks
My hometown sucks
The mayor's a lush, the council's corrupt
My hometown sucks
My hometown sucks
It's a charming mix of hicks in trucks
So much for nostalgia
I don’t know about ya
But my hometown sucks

©2009 Corey Parkman
(for the record, my hometown actually holds a nice place in my memory and is a lovely locale with all the  bingo hall fights and check cashing establishments you could ever ask for)

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