| Lyrics |
Onion lady blows her precious prose
And so it goes
Kisses to the crying cooks
Their bigs in books
With baited hooks
Chorus: and days away from your army
And spend with whimsy kings and slaves
A girl of god becomes a cash flower
A catalog of gardens and graves
Travelers diagram
For where i am
From where i am
Director of visional codes and overloads
It all explodes
Chorus
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