Who can say what the railroads have brought us?

Earlier, there was the at-home-entertainment sound of stomping and loud music. Now some guy is ki-yi-yi-yipping across the parking lot.
So now, I say hello again, to some character of the mind.
To the one who must always revert to locking the doors.
(Top lock, middle lock, bottom lock.)
Ache of the jaw, I have no insurance, please do not bother me.
(What disease killed the brother of Thoreau?)
There was the dream a friend had, she called me at work years ago.
She said "an old boyfriend of yours had an accident with a bus."
That was a situation already set in a book, before she made the phone call.
This was discovered as a result of a similar situation being reworked into another tome. Mmmmm hmmmm.
Mmm mmm mmm mmm mmm.
Why must you tell such stories?