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La, la, la, la, la, la, la, etc. |
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Billie and my friend the saint, |
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You're perfect in so many ways, |
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But you never looked hard |
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at a fetus in a jar |
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you never saw your mama change. |
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And this wonderland of spite, |
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Does not shine into your night, |
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Like widows are seen |
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As stigmatised beings, |
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Who ought to have second chance. |
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And hurricanes spin |
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Like debutantes in a trance. |
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Sue the fortune-teller, |
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Rue the rising tide, |
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General Washington, |
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patented that skull, |
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Throw him out. |
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Ship that hollandaise, |
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Feel the heart fell of touch |
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See the longer you tease, |
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The stronger the needs, |
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The highs and the fruit are long. |
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Up to the one a kid, |
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Call the bluff when the money's in, |
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You're a hungry matron, |
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And you are just what I need, |
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I was tired of the best years of my life. |
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Sue the fortune-teller, |
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Rue the rising tide, |
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General Washington, |
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Patented that skull, |
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Throw him out. |
