

BeddedMen wif chins, the ones with the accents,Bedded
missing some hair and wearing those clothes, Those other guys wif the hair and the shirts, they don't get in trouble and citations are
horses,
Saying somefing wierd about fish and bread, That's considered trouble that just happened,
and maybe accidents are on purpose. Lies aren't hard to tell, I can't tell them anyway, and yeah, yeah you can sing.
Compensate the scraps, kick your feet when you fall down, I don't listen anymore, and yeah, yeah, that's your


Isaac Brock told me to.Shreddin' newspapers solicitizing fruit; White suit, turnin' grey,Isaac Brock told me to.
it's filling up with water... I guess the sky'll break down today.
Perzonalied responsibility,
Nothing's hungry,
A predator is sitting pretty.
Somewhere, somehow,
why do I do it? Don't they know it's illegal?
Guest starring my friend,
she's good at jokes.
Hold on,
Why're you dancing?
The conversation got out of hand,
now I'm lost in
peace
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