I live to sleep
I sleep to dream
Sewage holes fill kinny bunk port out of the box Mr. Krull yer big headed Joyce fixation lets the dead dogs in leave the dead frogs to fry read a dull heart and mind
Down for the do little sing song hallelujah chorus let the whole world adore us we are the resurrection and you are the night take old children's programming to extremes and brainwash the yellow things
You asked don't tell so I wish you well and this drug you sling is a dangerous thing of letters and numbers all forced into the machine good girl great guns you'll do what I've done
It's a lie, my foot, there's a false ring to it's nose can you be so cavalier about things you don't know is the the grease going to settle and ruin your good clothes who knows Mr. Whitman, who knows
Words they say cut like blades in another setting where the mice eat men and dry ol' John Steinbeck writes with a pen fall out boy fudge to your granny sue I'm sure she'll agree that'll do, that'll do...bartle doo
Put 'em together yourself, old salt, here, every one on 'ems yerns, twist 'em and turn 'em, pick 'em and burn 'em, take a spoon or a spatula whatever you need to turn all this idiocy into a creed
Cut a few out they shouldn't be here what's wrong with the fool who gave 'em the time of day, there's surely a reason but his girl wouldn't say that evil ghost ***** with no reason to stay
That'll do.
Bartle doo.