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Lambchop
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Sharing A Gibson With Martin Luther King, Jr.
Lyricist:Kurt Wagner
All the leaves have turned to leather I have lost faith in the spring Withered like a dark balloon Oh, I hear no robin sing
Ushered with the shower still Oh, the rain falls off the leaves And a rim of shady light It forms these patterns on my hands
I can see your ring Is it camouflaged or etched Tell the king To me this errand sent
To call such a hole In the kingdom of the Lord That we are afraid Where there is no fear
Oh, he fell into a slumber And did not wake until the dawn To see a band of orange clouds Cross the middle of the sky Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com
Oh, he got into a fluster He felt a tightening in his leg With such finesse he waived a hornet From a wine glass
And tiny fluffs of the feathered life And you wander forth with your insolence and wine To your fruitless mourn to them that cannot hear And what the fuck am I doing here?
In the ghettos of Chicago Amid the poverty and despair Inside the game hens Were the giblets in a plastic bag
A cocktail which consisted Of his gin and her vermouth Garnished together with the pearl onions Dying eyes gleamed forth their ashy light
Tiny fluffs of the feathered life And you wander forth with your insolence and wine To your fruitless mourn to them that cannot hear
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