| Pick me up and hose me down
|
| I’m sorry boys about the dirty night clowns
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| The Earth does bright, the things that we make
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| Like a model planes and gooey cakes
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| I can’t clear the leaves from here
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| They’re too far under the brush this year
|
| I can’t clear the leaves from here
|
| They’re too far under the brush this year
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| Let them be buried, buried alive
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| In their suits, in their ties
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| Trees to shade the moons (?) that they made
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| In their suits, in their ties
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| Let them be buried, buried alive
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| In their suits, in their ties
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| You’re safe here, now you’re in the clear
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| Now we’ll eat soup and apple pies
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| I can’t clear the leaves from here
|
| They’re too far under the brush this year
|
| I can’t clear the leaves from here
|
| They’re too far under the brush this year
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| I will never be dirt-free
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| Hold me, hold me
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| Like a baby
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| (La da da da da da da dum
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| da da da da dum)
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| I can’t clear the leaves from here
|
| They’re too far under the brush this year |