That fine fever brought us here
Lambasted eyeballs
When we kiss the dirt
The orchids laugh
What a gut pageant
We could play for hours
What a gut pageant
Meat for the flowers
You break out of a paper bag
And wake up on the street
Just kidding
You don't have to go
I asked him why the grass is blue
And stray boys don't go home
Why four a.m's so screwy
He says
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