| Everybody’s looking forward to fun
|
| Blaring Rotten, Cook and Matlock and Jones
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| Carry bodies hide fingers under the leaves
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| You’re scaring me please
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| I’ll tell my older brother looking to run
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| To trail his crummy bookies' line of action
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| The failed and petty crooked-ass thieves aren’t willing to please
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| And I want to
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| Surf the ocean with this board made out of soul
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| Never want to
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| Dwarf emotions for my daughters' hearts of gold
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| To be perfectly stoned
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| And get outside and work my lazy bones
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| Scary thoughts are cooking, the cook is a punk
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| Harry rags and sooty, I’m elephant’s trunk
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| The buried bodies growing wings under my feet
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| Apparently cheat
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| Daring daughter’s chocking, «I married a chump»
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| Young Mary’s father broke in, «I'll make him a stump»
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| Hurried prodding just might sever arteries
|
| Appendage and meat
|
| And I want to
|
| Surf the ocean with his board made out of soul
|
| Never want to
|
| Dwarf emotions for my daughters' hearts of gold
|
| To be perfectly stoned
|
| And get outside and work my lazy bones
|
| Everybody’s looking forward to fun |