At best I'm a stripped tree
Ripped up at the roots
Carnival clown
Strung up for his boots
But swings his dick
In your whiskey and dry
But I propose that we get proper
Properly aligned
What's the worst?
Could ever come from cursing the climbs
It's romantic as the first time
I'll see you cry
So come buckle up, hitch a ride,
And try your luck on a beehive
Oh come hit the button, there's always,
Some dinted love on a beehive
Oh come saddle up, there's the hunted,
There's the cup on a beehive
Life's but steam, when the bus
Controls your dreams on a beehive
Let's not invent patterned names(?)
Bum cheeks, honey
I'm the sour, I'm the cream
Your antediluvian dream
Something borrowed, something used (new)
Something you
So I propose that we compose
A song devoid of rhyme
What's the worst? Could ever come from
Cursing the climbs
It's romantic as the first time
We cussed goodbye
So come pucker up, hitch a ride,
And try your luck on a beehive
Oh come hit the button, there's always
Some dinted love on a beehive
Come saddle up, there's the hunted,
There's the cup on a beehive
Life's but steam, when the bus
Controls your dreams on a beehive
Ripped up at the roots
Carnival clown
Strung up for his boots
But swings his dick
In your whiskey and dry
But I propose that we get proper
Properly aligned
What's the worst?
Could ever come from cursing the climbs
It's romantic as the first time
I'll see you cry
And try your luck on a beehive
Oh come hit the button, there's always,
Some dinted love on a beehive
Oh come saddle up, there's the hunted,
There's the cup on a beehive
Life's but steam, when the bus
Controls your dreams on a beehive
Bum cheeks, honey
I'm the sour, I'm the cream
Your antediluvian dream
Something borrowed, something used (new)
Something you
So I propose that we compose
A song devoid of rhyme
What's the worst? Could ever come from
Cursing the climbs
It's romantic as the first time
We cussed goodbye
And try your luck on a beehive
Oh come hit the button, there's always
Some dinted love on a beehive
Come saddle up, there's the hunted,
There's the cup on a beehive
Life's but steam, when the bus
Controls your dreams on a beehive
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From Tim Rogers, "Wonderfully collaborative amongst the band, as they wrestled with a winsome little tune with a baffling bridge that opens out into a chorus like a newly popped bottle of Cotes Du Rhone in a field of dancing satyrs. Rustys drum parts mapped with Andys bass are highlights for me, and then cheeky Davey adds piano, all played and recorded live, on a sweaty arvo in Brooklyn. We were going to engineer Wayne Gordons bar straight after the chosen take, so our enthusiasm mixed with tender care is palpable to me... Gee we're as excitable bunch of middle aged men as you'd be unlucky enough to meet. We do, however, welcome you to join us if you have an appreciation of the sillier things in lyfe [sic]."