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Songs | Albums | Album Arts
Song: | The Finest Joke Is Upon Us |
Album: | Mag Earwhig_ | Genres: | Rock |
Year: | | Length: | 179 sec |
Lyrics:
Mother, feeling your hand I
Believe you and I did then
And mother, release every bad seed
The geese are leaving the trees
Exposed to winter's cold
They waited too long
But we too exaggerated
And I take the cake away
It's a long song
And I can play it so
Give me a pick now
Collector of bones
Words of smoke
Distorted, never broken
Paradise is open but I choke
One of these days when I see through the smoke
There'll be the day I get the joke
Exposed to winter's cold
They waited too long
But we too exaggerated
And I take the cake away
It's a long song
And I can play it so
Give me a pick now
Collector of bones
Words of smoke
Distorted, never broken
Paradise is open but I choke
One of these days when I see through the smoke
There'll be the day I get the joke
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