Walking in the woods, I smell something burning. Could it be aliens?
I like ice cream and cake. Doesn’t everybody? But my stomach says not so fast! Everything in moderation.
Waves crash on the beach. Nothing washed up, except seaweed. Fish are jumping, you know how I feel; and I’m feeling good.
There was lipstick on his pants. Guess she kissed him where she missed him. Only a graveyard howl can do it justice.
Point me in the right direction, then let me go, go, go. I don’t know about you, but I know how I feel, and it’s not good.
Riding on a fire truck, siren wailing, horn blowing. Is it close, or is it far? If they know, they’re not telling.
Stumbling along the sidewalk 