|
What has not got my heart in it, shall we be dubbed sir names? |
|
With a million blither tongues, mounting bristling guilt frames |
|
In the fake ache of the gloom loom, slippers slap me alive |
|
The hour hands down a miracle to spend with ugly types |
|
So we catch and thread a minstrel, bleed a tower down to it's ankles |
|
So we can't go up or stay up, find the thumb dumb in your ear brain |
|
Get unfunny such as choirs do, why the clock lock brought this one? |
|
Just when things seemed so [Incomprehensible] |
|
Like my tooth face, like my out-do |
|
Capers, capers, capers |
|
Capers, capers, capers |
|
Oh, a streak, oh, treacly ink, inks, tied my knees all up in elbows |
|
Erase that lapsing smile tub, lose the slip of the small soap-fellows |
|
Account the add ups till I do not, are we balanced? We're in business |
|
Idle tidal, rush in, tried all with a limb's, all legs and amour |
|
I had a dreadful die hood, die hard, drunken, sunken, monk-heart |
|
Oh, I had a wonderful die hood, thanks to my fa, fa, family |
