I know Linda McCartney!
She stares at me from a box of vegetarian sausages
I bought in 1993
Stored at the back of my freezer behind a bag of frozen peas
I wonder if they’re worth anything.
Must be!
Don’t say anything cringeworthy, Paul, you old attention-seeking withered whore.
Or I’ll give you one from my knuckle-top four
And you will take your final tour.
Hello?
Goodbye!
Get Back!
Wooo!
Let It Be!
You’re diminishing the value of my frigid legacy.
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