Dean Young - So the Gra**es Grow lyrics

I would be sad without potato chips but much worse if you chopped off my arm. Being sad is a form of exsanguination so perhaps to the bottom of sadness I could get as I bled to d**h. I do not know. I do not want to know. Already you took my turtle and left me the plastic pond dish and plastic palm tree then gave me my first funeral. We buried a j**elry box. I don't want a spider quadrupling in the center of my chest, a spider of pain. Here, take my Babe Ruth stamp, my day-of-the-dead skullman with the elkhead on top of his. I do not own a pair of castanets but take these too. Perhaps you could edifyingly divert yourself with 19th century Russian novels where awful things happen even though people think a lot. A lot. Maybe because? Check out this book of Gorky drawings, especially page 74 but do not take Brenda, not even one piece even though you take her mother who takes a Brenda-piece along with her, that I know can't be helped. And do not take my love while she is at her windsurfing lesson or anywhere between. You already took her wallet and charged a houseful of furniture, terrible ottomans, hideous divans, corpuscular easy chairs before she even notices, you are that quick! But how slow you were with my dad, tooth by tooth, gasp by basp. I could tell he was afraid. I looked down the road where someone was buying shoes. Is it possible to choose a pair solely by the prints they'll leave in the sand and snow? I know you have a job to do, without you there would be no beauty, no tirogen cycle or atmosphere or cantaloupe. No gleam without a maggot, no cloud without tears, how it smells like iron then it rains and rains and rains.