| We're going to have it if I can't jog
|
| If you want to put birdseed in my bars
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| And there is no god or faith that argues with me
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| That I become a son of a bitch 'if he gives me...
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| I prefer to have the feeder empty
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| I'll throw snacks at the whole world
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| Then I'll watch where I spit it out
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| He stirs and I take care of looking…
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| If there isn't anything to eat, I'll climb the apple tree
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| To see them come in a wagon
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| Of things to do, of blind people beating
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| That life is very whore and I have become very bad
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| And if you encarta loneliness, then loneliness for the sack
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| The same will give me to give as to be given
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| I'm not going to leave anything for the worms
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| The moon meows at me so that I wag my tail
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| At the height of the parsley all my dreams have remained
|
| I make myself a dress with everything I've lost
|
| And it already makes sense to smile
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| Take flyers to lie, to undulate like wheat
|
| And so to say, since you've been gone
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| I dance it the same with you as without you
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| If you try to understand my sleepless nights
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| You want to buy me with fistfuls of candy
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| Bunches of wasting, with juice from the puddles
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| Crush the pestle, you have me in your hands
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| And I hope it goes well for you, and to pass the time
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| You sow for you, and more when I keep quiet
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| I keep silent what is there, what is there is what touches
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| And to touch the heart it is better not to open your mouth
|
| At the height of the parsley all my dreams have remained
|
| I make myself a dress with everything I've lost
|
| And it already makes sense to smile
|
| Take flyers to lie, to undulate like wheat
|
| And so to say, since you've been gone
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| no one has beaten me yet
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| Today I want to put my kingdom of spoils in these places
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| Where the first time we put the dawn to juggle
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| And I will not see sweat fogging portals again
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| I get so bad when I look back...
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| I will open my veins, words will come out
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| Keep the cowbell, put it on another goat
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| That it doesn't fit me, that I've been hanging
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| Too many keys, all the breaks
|
| At the height of the parsley all my dreams have remained
|
| I make myself a dress with everything I've lost
|
| And it already makes sense to smile
|
| Take flyers to lie, to undulate like wheat
|
| And so to say, since you've been gone...
|
| I don't plan to stay, not for a moment or for a while
|
| To plan who will pay for the dishes
|
| From my despair, my suffocation
|
| I know who's gone crazy from waiting
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| we are going to have it |