Tommy combs his hair to the left and the wind blows it right back up in the air. He can't win so he decides not to try. Look at him walking down the escalator with his book bag open. Pencils and books and notebook paper falling and blowing all around. He's a king and this is his court. Tommy, your hair is free to disobey. Tommy, can I follow you around about 20 yards behind? You are midway between old and young, mean and kind.
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