|
The onion's in the fat |
|
And the bacon's bought the bat |
|
And the Posie's never even near the picture |
|
(Now where to went that rotten egg |
|
For feelin' up my lover's leg |
|
I'll boil him 'til the begs to be a breakfast) |
|
So I'm left all alone |
|
Because my father fought the foam |
|
And now I can't accept the pharmacy's prescription |
|
So now there is a bank |
|
Where once a summer spring |
|
Remined us of what we thought we ought to ding.a ling |
|
For ringing ringing rockets |
|
Roar a tub of a' lard today |
|
And all that's left |
|
Is something else |
|
There is no more to say |
|
Is no more to say now... Is no more to say... |
|
Is no more to say now... Is no more to say... |
|
Is no more to say now... Is no more to say... |
|
Is no more to say now... Is no more to say... |
|
Is no more to say now... Is no more to say... |
|
Is no more to say now... Is no more to say... |
|
Is no more to say now... Is no more to say... |
|
Is no more to say now... Is no more to say... |
|
Is no more to say now... Is no more to say... |
