Oh, I can't say what qualifies as pain
So transfixed by the wavering flame
Mortal kings of each grade and grain erased
Oh, I'm blessed
The slant may rain, knows my door
Tambourines my floor in four
Laughs and shakes my folded face
Where Jesus mowed my lawn
Fame has legs, blazing chrome
Amputate but it's never quite gone
Rakes in clover shown like snakes shine over rate my crime
Why kill a man when you can drive him crazy?
Why make it end when my amut
Always depends on the joke?
Won't you lend me my punchline
As a favor, can you be entertained so
That day I can savor whatever remains
Of hurricanes too rattled to romance
Massive plates of cirtances
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