La, la, la, la, la, la, la...
Billie and my friend the saint
You're perfect in so many ways
But you never looked hard at a fetus in a jar
You never saw your mama change
And this wonderland of spite
Does not shine into your night
Like widows are seen as stigmatised beings
Who ought to have second chance
And hurricanes spin
Like debutantes in a trance
Sue the fortune-teller
Rue the rising tide
General Washington
Patented that skull
Throw him out
Ship that hollandaise
Feel the heart fell of touche
See the longer you tease, the stronger the needs
The highs and the fruit are long
Up to the one a kid
Call the bluff when the money's in
You're a hungry matron
And you are just what I need
I was tired of the best years of my life
Sue the fortune-teller
Rue the rising tide
General Washington
Patented that skull
Throw him out |
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