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Of all the dirt that we dug, I think my favorite was the mud.
Of all the wine that we drank, I think my favorite was the blood.
Of all the bombs that we lit, I think my favorite was the dud.
Of all the things that we chew, I think my favorite is the cut
Of the cow. Like that time when we lie to and fro
Hope to throw. Tables turn, books that burn, hurt the shine,
Tilt the wheel, hold the hand, cop a feel, close the deal,
Like that time, turpentine, when we lie to and fro.
Of all the banks that we robbed, I think my favorite one was mine.
Of all the bushes that burned, the ones I liked talked wise and kind.
Of all the toys that we smashed, I think I liked the ones that wind.
Of all the beotches we pimp slapped, I liked the ones that did not mind
Over matter. Your head on a platter, put the bread in the batter-y acid,
Don't I scrink(?) on it, island on a sun, this side down, to the water,
You'll sell me your daughter, I'll plot a new course on a horse.
With no name droppin', pill poppin' son of a beotch
The bug bites make me iotch.
Of all the trees that we hugged, I think I liked the ones that died.
Of all the butts that we grabbed, I remember only the white ones.
Of all the whales that we beached, ya chose to blame it on the tide.
Of all the forks that we stole, just to jab each others eyes
Of the shape of the smoke, of the bang of the pipe.
Twist and turn, reckless burn, melting wax, melting hype.
Hurt to change, keep exchange, burning down, turning ripe.
Of the shape of the smoke, of the bang of the pipe.
Of all the wine that we drank, I think my favorite was the blood.
Of all the bombs that we lit, I think my favorite was the dud.
Of all the things that we chew, I think my favorite is the cut
Of the cow. Like that time when we lie to and fro
Hope to throw. Tables turn, books that burn, hurt the shine,
Tilt the wheel, hold the hand, cop a feel, close the deal,
Like that time, turpentine, when we lie to and fro.
Of all the bushes that burned, the ones I liked talked wise and kind.
Of all the toys that we smashed, I think I liked the ones that wind.
Of all the beotches we pimp slapped, I liked the ones that did not mind
Over matter. Your head on a platter, put the bread in the batter-y acid,
Don't I scrink(?) on it, island on a sun, this side down, to the water,
You'll sell me your daughter, I'll plot a new course on a horse.
With no name droppin', pill poppin' son of a beotch
The bug bites make me iotch.
Of all the butts that we grabbed, I remember only the white ones.
Of all the whales that we beached, ya chose to blame it on the tide.
Of all the forks that we stole, just to jab each others eyes
Of the shape of the smoke, of the bang of the pipe.
Twist and turn, reckless burn, melting wax, melting hype.
Hurt to change, keep exchange, burning down, turning ripe.
Of the shape of the smoke, of the bang of the pipe.
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Sweet, nice job getting all those lyrics down just the way that they sound! That questionable part - "Don't I scrink on it" - I think it's something like " 'Don't' I scream" (maybe?) and "Coney Island", purposely making it sound like "Don't I-ce cream cone-y island". What a cool song.
From http://music.that1guy.com/track/one :
Of all the dirt that we dug I think my favorite was the mud Of all the wine that we drank I think my favorite was the blood Of all the bombs that we lit I think my favorite was the dud Of all the things that we chew I think my favorite was the cud
Of the cow Like that time When we lied To and fro Hope to throw Tables turn Books that burn Hurt to shine Tilt the wheel Hold the hand Cop a feel Close the deal Like that time Turpentine When we lied To and fro.....
Of all the banks that we robbed I think my favorite one was mine Of all the bushes that burn The ones I like talk wise and kind Of all the toys that we smashed I think I like the ones that wind Of all the beotches we pimp slapped I like the ones that did not mind
Overmatteryourheadonaplatterputthebreadinth ebatteryacidtoneicecreamConeyislandonasunn ysidedowntothewateryou'llsellmeyourdaughter i'llplotanewcourseonahorsewithnonamedroppin' pillpoppin'sonofabeotchthebugbugbitesmakem eieotch.....
Of all the trees that we hugged I think I like the ones that died Of all the butts that we grabbed I remember only the wide ones Of all the whales that we beached You chose to blame it on the tide Of all the forks that we stole Just to jab each others' sides
Of the shape Of the smoke Of the bang Of the pipe Twist and turn Records burn Melting wax Melting hype Hurt to change Heat exchange Burning down Turning ripe Of the shape Of the smoke Of the bang Of the pipe.....