Grass
¶ 1
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The boot studs rip me to pieces,
I am the soft grass beneath your feet.
The football splits my blades in two,
I am the green soft grass.
You run around and kick but you will trip,
And I can be wet and cold.
But when you fall, you hurt me more,
I am the thin grass waving in the wind.
When a goal is scored is worst,
You run around and trample me,
And when the game is over and you leave,
You take part of me with you.
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