I humbly request you trascribe a what is, but it is truly open
a feeling that belongs to another shared out of love We also fail to forget whenever you drop candy I rush to grasp and feel foolish at my misleading moans and curling toenail snails, snarling at the house of plenty Serving pan cakes
And pandora's sock drawer tells me the story of Jesus
Would you like to buy my bible? Only fifty-million Indians worth...
Only if slack is an unprofitable illusion You are in the clear clean as a whistle
if only I knew anything.