Boobs
*flutter*Ballad for YBR
YBR, with books piled high,
Thy weary heart lets out a sigh.
School’s toils have bound thee, worn and mute,
Yearning for the medieval lute.
Soft strings sing through ancient air,
A minstrel’s touch to ease despair.
Let cares take flight, let joy resume,
In lute’s sweet strains, thy soul shall bloom.
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What would you like to eat right now if you could have anything?Tired and hungry ignore me
Mind readerBoobs
Also the answer to the above