| Cuckoo, cuckoo
|
| Your pride and joy is a pretty beast
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| The baddest apples fall from rotten trees
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| Your little monster is a walking disease
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| You’ve got only yourself to blame
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| 'Cause all else failed
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| And you’re hot, hot on my trail
|
| And you know that it’s not, not, not my fault
|
| But you know that you’ve gotta, gotta pin the tail
|
| When all else fails
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| Cuckoo, cuckoo
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| Biting the hand that overfeeds
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| Lord of the Flies ain’t no mystery
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| Mean as murder, so precious and sweet
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| You’ve got only yourself to blame
|
| 'Cause all else failed
|
| And you’re hot, hot on my trail
|
| And you know that it’s not, not, not my fault
|
| But you know that you’ve gotta, gotta pin the tail
|
| When all else fails
|
| Cuckoo, cuckoo
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| Mama, hide the children
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| Someone get the baby
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| Mama, turn all the lights on
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| Somebody pull the shades
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| Oooh, and you’re hot, hot on my trail
|
| And you know that it’s not, not, not my fault
|
| But you know that you’ve gotta, gotta pin the tail
|
| When all else fails |