Chances are I've had the means to be there.
Pick a date, pick a time,
I've got it from a friend of mine
The ability to socialize.
Once when I was young,
I troubled over imperfection in my knees.
When you cultivate a pompidour,
It's best to keep the top up for the breeze.
Cuts like hell, you know.
Sporty was a poetry boy
And liked to puff his pipe into the night.
But since he sold him hits of ecstasy,
John Law, he took a decade of his life.
That's a hunk o' life.
Lyrics submitted by SongMeanings
"Holy Mackerel" as written by Les Claypool
Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
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