If I had a tail to chase around me,
I would go for days and days.
I would never cease to run amok until I
got stopped getting friends.
If
I found a finger in a can,
I would drink it anywhere.
Sprout a hundred names and twenty dents,
scratch you off and fly away.
It saturates,
it saturates,
it saturates and I can't make out for them.
Stammer oh I stumble through the words,
tethering about my mind.
If I could find a way,
none of the words would slide into that prime panel.
Rock your eyes open in stew,
make it sweeter than pear.
Pour a little sugar in the wounds,
fill it all up once again.
It saturates,
it saturates,
it saturates and I can't make out for them.
It saturates,
it saturates,
it saturates and I can't make out for them.
It saturates, it saturates,
it saturates and I can't make out for them.