the world again It goes, All my troubles on a burning pile All lit up and I start to smile If I catch fire than I'll take my turn To burn and burn and burn
the world again! It goes: All my troubles on a burning pile, all lit up and I start to smile. Live up, Catch fire then I take my turn, to burn and burn, and burn
life Cinnamon candles burning Snowball fights outside Smile below each nose And above each chin Family all together Presents piled high Frost on all the windows What a wonderful night Cinnamon candles burning
itself I'll give you one underdog, and you gotta swing by yourself Then turn right around in that song and tell her you love her And put hands on her mother
Out across cities I see buildings burn into piles And watch the world in wonder as mountains turn into tiles And trees losing their leaves and our faces
rocked to a mother goose rhyme Oh but we were happy for half an hour's time But there was I a great boy and what would folks say To hear my mother
skin burning and peeling Schards of glass explode, chest and skull now implode Corpses they've become, and graves will have to be dug Underneath the wheels, burning
their skin burning and peeling Shards of glass explode, chest and skull now implode Corpses they've become, and graves will have to be dug Underneath the wheels, burning
woman crying to her mother 'Cause she turned and I was gone I still might run in silence tears of joy might stain my face And a summer sun might burn
s cryin' to her mother 'Cause she turned and I was gone I still might run in silence, tears of joy might stain my face And the summer sun might burn
A., 1638] From that crazy night I never forget my love Before he pile of logs, She stood like unconscious ghost A last scream from the stake Her mother
lapel, punctuated by her Decrepit prowl she washed down the hatching Gizzard soft as a mane of needles His orifice icicles hemorrhaged By combing her torso to a pile
syrup dripping off His lap danced lapel, punctuated by her Decrepit prowl she washed down the hatching Gizzard soft as a mane of needles His orifice icicles hemmoraged By combing her torso to a pile
off His lap danced lapel, punctuated by her Decrepit prowl she washed down the hatching Gizzard soft as a mane of needles His orifice icicles hemorrhaged By combing her torso to a pile
crying to her mother 'cause she turned and I was gone. I still might run in silence, tears of joy might stain my face and the summer sun might burn me
my junk get to pumpin in the club it's on I wink my eye at ya bitch, if she smiles she gone If the roof on fire, let the mother fucker burn If you talking
