| He’s dead and naked
|
| I’m naked too
|
| He’s dead and naked
|
| At least I’m, I’m still wearing shoes
|
| Once there was an ugly woman
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| Who was told to tell the truth
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| And so she said we needed fighters
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| Who were mean but mainly lighter
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| Than the metal war machinery
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| That was used to make us scream
|
| And so we gathered up an army
|
| And that was thin, but then a storm began
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| And it was really raining
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| Like some swollen lakes were draining
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| Into thunderclouds and breaking
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| As our enemies were waking
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| They were stuck like legless bugs there
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| In a mucky mire of mud where
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| They were stabbed and left to squirm
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| Like lost and lonely wiggle worms
|
| He’s dead and naked
|
| I’m naked too
|
| He’s dead and naked
|
| At least I’m still wearing shoes
|
| He’s dead and naked
|
| I’m naked too
|
| He’s dead and naked
|
| At least I’m still wearing shoes
|
| Cautiously their leader ran
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| Until he saw me and my hand
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| Inviting him to come inside
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| My tent where he could safely hide
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| He was shivering and wet
|
| And so I said that I would get some clothes
|
| But then his tender eyes
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| Reached out and made me recognize
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| This vile and evil enemy
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| As someone soft and even sweet
|
| Confused, I said he needed rest
|
| But then somehow we were undressed
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| I said I heard someone outside
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| And rolled him in a rug and cried
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| I drove a tent stake in his head
|
| And continued crying as he bled |