know by now, brotha let me break it down for ya, tough dude If you don't love me, mane fuck you Comin' like a train, boy, it's not a game What's my
echo out into the hall As her fingers fall In a bra and underwear She's balanced now upon a chair A letter written, tucked inside A paperback, the rope
seems pretty stiff for a phone call. [Mama Morton] Over these work that we sent, he never lost a case for a female client yet. And a sweet little puss
a chord torn prematurely from a piano's womb. As we fill our precious lungs with concrete, that faithful shade, a shaper's song is stopped short- a dying
I close my eyes and I find a way No need for me to pray I've walked so far I've fought so hard Nothing more to explain I know all that remains Is a piano
eatin? dead puss Sardine can smell from here to hell A gladiator wit tights under disco lights Blowin? a harmonica, yo, in Santa Monica in a Honda Name dazzle night fall
lip, lead me to infer a subterior motivatium! Harry: (singing) I want a nun! I want a nun! I want a burro, In the frosty light! Thing-fish: You want
for it, go for it, go for it, go for it Go for it, go for it, go for it, go for it Go for it, go for it, go for it, go for it Go for it, go for it,
next to a small manual projector.) THE LITTLE BOY The era of Ragtime had run out, as if history were no more than a tune on a player piano. But we did
As street light diffuses through the hall Somewhere (Winter)'s lifting shades of war Chilling me in the darkness of this fall The Piano falls As shadows
you make a move, new not used And watch the bro here just bust a groove A fat lady soprano, loads my ammo Hear my jam with a funky piano Easy on the
down this road for a while now, I should tell the truth... Girl you've been so good to me but I know I'm no good for you You should run while you
the run-around with everything you do I just can't seem to get over you honey now, now, don't give me the run-around I love when she writes for me and
game. I can track a single bee to the hive. Every single game was a blowout. And the Nascar blurred into porn. Scenic this, scenic that, don't fall for
make a move - new not used And watch the bro here just bust a groove A fat lady soprano - loads my ammo Hear my jam - with a funky piano Easy on
