LYRIC

Snorkels and bits seed reality fits
How the censor’s morality pails
While Gethsemane wiles for a fit of the piles
See the presidents laze in the sails

Given portions of chow maim the blade of the plow
For the ginseng of fleadom must ring
If you’re searching for keys you must argue your pleas
If you’re cadging for dosh you must sing

Blind men scrounging to blink under mountains must sink
Till the noonday duodenum snores
Like as not like as well pings the rose crystal bell
And the sandman is sweeping the shores

If confusion you seek in the belly or beak
I’ve been troubled by worms lately two
Perhaps doctors find me more likely behind me
Delirium tremens and flu

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