| Onions (Make the Milk Taste Bad) |
|---|
| I dream in wings of yesterday |
| Divide it seem to float on a line |
| Don’t mean to be so in deep |
| My baby walks it twist and turn |
| Black lady lady sleep or ride? |
| She lay and paint up every night |
| The walls are always here me |
| And never hardly hear me |
| I hold the forward drone |
| It makes me right |
| The wheels are always near |
| And twist and turn like baby |
