There's no place like home
Let this be the end at last
and afraid of the days to come
coffee bitters my breath, breadth, breakfast.
Get rich or die trying
And I think this is all very tiring
We're all frogs they said just joking
and go cut some flowers from the crape myrtle.
How long to sing this song?
We must root out the bastard commie finks
Just to make sure that it won't go wrong
They'll be rooted before your eye blinks.
That is seriously twisted.