Choo-choo!Choo-choo!Choo-choo!Choo-choo!Choo-choo!Choo-choo!Choo-choo!Choo-choo!Choo-choo!Choo-choo!My face has got a grain point of flavorBut my mouth re-injects a shot in my feetI talk like in a baby, feel his loonCollapsing in its chaos and flaccidityMy right hand is a battle machineMy left wing is still a catastropheI feel like in a baby, loon is tallCollapsing in its chaos and flaccidityCut off all, all, all of my conflicting partsAnd let me be like aCut off all, all, all of my conflicting partsAnd let me be like aLike a homogeneous, like a homogeneous geniusIf you cut off all, all, all of my conflicting partsYeahIf you cut off all, all, all of my conflicting parts
