| Miss Peaches wears an iron dress
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| And Sweet Pea likes bubbles
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| And if I had a scythe
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| I’d hack away at all her troubles
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| Short sellers under stress
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| While the S & P doubles
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| How long must he live
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| Amongst her ruins and her rubbles
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| Ooh come on there’s a new Burma Shave
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| Ever since they told us we could recklessly misbehave
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| I’ve got chicken from a website
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| I’ve got chicken from a funnel
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| And every time we meet, I meet you in a Shanghai tunnel
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| I could be wrong about everything
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| But I’ve seen her bells and I’ve heard them ring
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| This time I’m in no position to say anything
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| Miss Peaches bakes a lizard pie
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| And Sweet Pea just cries
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| There’s a million other things she’d rather have
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| Then one of those pies
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| Troubled teens want to die
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| And scoundrels tell lies
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| How long to know what kind of yeast
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| Is making your bread rise
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| Whoa oh I’m happy as a clam
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| Ever since I did the right thing and forgot who I am
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| The guy I used to work with
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| Became a prison whore
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| And ever since he got out
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| He wanna go back--back for more
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| I’m not asking for a reprieve
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| But it’s quite a tangled web we weave
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| I’m not asking you to believe anything
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| If you ask her to dance
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| With a 'howdy do,'
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| When she makes your acquaintance
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| She always turns blue
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| She does not want to bleed
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| But she’s falling in lead
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| And she’s dancing two-step, tangle web |