| We’re overheating in a small town world
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| We’re overeating in a small town world
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| I hear the sound of several different crimes
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| The distant eel and the silver chimes
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| Lieutenant Hodges often said to me
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| «I see a shoal of them far out to sea»
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| A distant cormorant above the grey
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| It wheels in dots and then it falls away
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| A feather biro in a knotted clump
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| Performs a vixen with a feline hump
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| I wanna hold you in a solar globe
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| The way your body is beneath a robe
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| Bass, bass
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| The juicy flounder and the tender chub
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| Will swim around you when you leave the pub
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| Their mouths are open and they will not shut
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| Unless you kiss them all behind the hut
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| But don’t go messing with a guy like Reg
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| He’ll leave you gurgling behind the hedge
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| Bass, I’m talking about bass
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| Let me tell you about bass
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| You wanna ooze with a bass
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| The looming mullet and the wily bream
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| Are at the window with a quiet scream
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| The feisty barbel and the gruesome tench
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| Are decomposing on a yellow bench
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| There’s something fluttering upon the sand
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| And all I wanna do is hold your hand
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| Bass, talking about a bass
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| Let me tell you about a bass
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| I wanna function with a bass
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| Because
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| He’d never make love to a loaf of bread
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| Unless of course he found one in his bed
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| Now frogs are reproducing on your back
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| And bubbles keep emerging from a crack
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| It’s not a cormorant it’s not a shag
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| It’s only something in a plastic bag |