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Nothin' left but empty pockets And socks wit holes upon each heel. All the good fings are swept away Like a rotten banana peel. Wit nowhere else to turn - I turn to God. Wit empty pockets And holes in my socks - I turn to God. { Weasel }

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Written by

weasel

For You?

Written by

weasel

Published: Dec 7, 2015
Time: 1m

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