She's given herself a transfusion She's filled herself with panda blood To avoid all the confusion I say, "The sun rises and falls with you And various things about love" But a
for Hilda, Hattie or Holly "No wonder", people said "Poor mother Joy's so melancholy" Well, one night there came a visitor to our little home I was visiting a sick friend I was a
he carried Jesse's monies away Poor Jesse had a wife who mourned for his life Three children, they were brave But that dirty little coward who shot
how I got along Adieu Papa, it's hard to die When all the birds are singing in the sky Now that the Spring is in the air Little children everywhere When
martinis there's a little child that's starving in Biafra And the good life that I'm living makes me happy but not blind I see my neighbors dying for
But I've been wrong a time or two When a friend kicks you in the gut There's not much that you can do Oh, but that friend she was never my friend The
only just beginning O children We have the answer to all your fears It's short, it's simple, it's crystal dear It's round about and it's somewhere
hardly speak A fag in a whale-bone corset Draping his dick across my cheek Well it's into the shame And it's into a guilt And it's into the fucking
the spring is in the air, little children ev`rywhere; when you`ll see them, i`ll be there. [chorus} adieu, francoise, my trusted wife, without you i`d have had a
glang You want to blame it on the government On why you got to money for your rent? You want to start a revolution And blame it on the institution You know there's
The latest game, there's people chopping off heads Gangs and drugs and murdering the feds Robot creation, our creation, teacher's on the screen Showing little children
they hide In their own little world Is It a passion, for limelight that's growing cold Lackluster fashion, is their style getting old Into a minor, their
a hoein' Now she got a little pot, I guess she's goin' for self Tryin' to make brothers lick her below the belt Takin' trips to Virginia with a key at a
to make a diesel sing Just like Patsy Cline, oh Just like Patsy Cline Well, I met my wife to be Through my mother's best friend's son She'd been a barroom
was a drug bust but something's weird Well, what's the matter, Spinderella? The way half a million disappeared Children play, women produce Kids killing kids, just for
, the number of days in a year There's 52 cards, the number of weeks in a year There's 4 suits, the number of weeks in a month There's 12 picture cards