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The Birthday Party

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(albüm: Prayers On Fire - 1981)


What has not got my heart in it shall we be dubbed sir names
Wither million blither tongues mounting bristling guilt frames
In the fake-ache of the gloom loom slippers slap me alive!
The hour hands down a miracle to spend with ugly types
So we catch and thread a minstrel
Bleed a tower down to its ankles
So we can't go up or stay up
Find the thumb dumb in your ear brain
Get unfunny, such as choirs do
Why the clocklock bought up this one
Just when things seemed so paperparrent
Like my toothface?
Like my out-do?

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Oh a streak, o'treacly ink-inks
Tied my knees all up in elbows
Erase that lapsing smile tub
Lose the slip of the small soap-fellows
Account the add ups till I do-nots
Are we balanced?
We're in business!
Idle tidal, rush in, tried all with a limb's all legs and armour
I had a dreadful diehood
Diehard, drunken, sunken, monk-heart
Oh, I had a wonderful diehood thanks to my fa, fa, family

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