| Land down under the odd lights, love
|
| Something you used to see
|
| Has crawled on your arm
|
| Then froze in your palm
|
| Then you start your fuss with me
|
| I conjure up a demon
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| That splits my grace in two
|
| It plays the lotto, only wins the bingo
|
| Then it leads all ladies to dine
|
| In my own private Vietnam
|
| My own private Vietnam
|
| Drunk walks and drunk talks
|
| Drunk liver’s getting weak
|
| Drunk talks then drunk sleeps
|
| His canals are starting to leak
|
| Splish splash goes the whiplash
|
| It splits my face in two
|
| There’s one half for daddy, and one half for you
|
| And the rest I’m selling as spam
|
| In my own private Vietnam
|
| My own private Vietnam
|
| Drunk walks and drunk talks
|
| Drunk falls down in a pit
|
| Drunk talks then drunk sleeps
|
| I’m so tired of this shit
|
| So start your fuss with me now, love
|
| Just start your fuss with me |