LYRIC

Sank into their calculations and snorted on a stench
A bare arithmetic
Look for the boy who was hanging his head low
More trophies and ideas
To follow their pretend.

With a scowl in his pocket and a smile on his face
He followed with obedience and fell in the nettles.

I flew in some spiked meniscus and he bought his own rope
And skipped against the rode
Did start not to find the dark lead and catch that man I hope
Devices man are closed
He lost all his foot holes.

And with a scowl in his pocket and a smile on his face
He followed with obedience and fell in the nettles, fell in the nettles, fell in the nettles

He was a toothpick and the garlic and the cinder upon the pub
Failed to blunt or hinder, a slow collapse
And clinging to the door frame he was trapped
After a reminder of where he had been

With a smile in his pocket and a scowl on his face
There was nowhere to flee
Just had to tent in the nettles

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