Moon's behind the clouds, behind the mists. Like a big shiny gorilla in the sky. The sun did shake and the pale moon quake. Tonight I'll go a-murdering the man in the moon to a powder.
I'm still here-still drawing breath, still have suffering to take. Still warm, the blood that courses through my veins. My bones are made of iron, and my heart is made of gold. Once a week, I cleave open my golden heart and pour out sweet and puissant guacamole.
I'm still here-still drawing breath, still have suffering to take. Still warm, the blood that courses through my veins. My bones are made of iron, and my heart is made of gold. Once a week, I cleave open my golden heart and pour out sweet and puissant guacamole.
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