If only there was a song for every room,

If only there was a song for every room, every room a song, then there would be room for every song. A song for every rock, a rockstar for every song. Who thinks he’s a rockstar?
Who thinks he's a rock?
Who thinks he plays with paper and scissors?
"I do," said Mrs. Farwithy, "and I have evidence. Just look at my checkbook! He's sliced it to ribbons with those little so-called 'safety' scissors of his. Whomever invented those
had different ideas of safety, I tell you." She topped up her wine, letting it slosh out onto the table. "But why," Lord Pembroke asked, "haven't you just snapped the child's neck
and done with the business already?" "There's be more children to put down," she said casually, taking a sip from her glass. "More little necks to snap!" she added.
He bowed to his boss and hurried out to continue his work. "I guess she is right. How else will we deal with this street urchin problem?" He thought to himself as he took his gun.
"Or, we could transform the road into one giant sushi conveyor belt." and with that in mind he proceeded to gather the necessary materials. The urchin invasion was doomed,
and as the giant road sushi conveyor belt took shape, he chuckled in anticipation. Well, you can imagine what happened when the urchins invaded, and afterwards the lesson was clear
You should never get on the belt if you weren't ready to face the greedy people of the world and the deadly consequences that they will always bring.

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