| What’s a woman going to do but throw away her bread
|
| Her feet are feeling funny as she lies beneath the bed
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| She reminisces of the pungent Adriatic Sea
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| And then she crawls and counts her cans and twitches like a flea
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| What she really likes to do is sit upon a pew
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| And make believe that time has stopped and motionless is new
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| Planes are stranded in the sky and drains are stopping, too
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| She alone is laughing under eyelids full of flu
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| She scurries, hurries, worries that the wicked will receive
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| Their candy from a handsome man and coffee from a thief
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| She gazes at a hourglass and asks it if it cares
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| And then she wonders if the lizard likes his lettuce rare
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| «Lizard, yes a lizard, little lizard of the sea
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| Conspicuously alcoholic, flicks his tongue at me
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| Release me, release me lizard, blizzard of the bee
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| Mushed inside a sock you still dare me to die
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| Dare me to die at home
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| Coating all my lungs with honey, sticky coating running runny
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| Feet of lizard fly and stop and fly and stop and fly
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| And flicker tongue is licking out to find me, feel me, hide!
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| Hide from the tongue
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| The tongue is coming! |
| Cruising! |
| Oozing!
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| Over land and under ashes, in the sunlight, see it flashes
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| Find a fly and eat his eye, but don’t believe in me
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| Don’t believe in me, don’t believe in me
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| Don’t believe in me, don’t believe in me
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| Don’t believe in me…» |