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Lard - I Am Your Clock lyrics
A fork is a cold shiny tool To pierce, tear and ingest Whoever has the fork in hand Controls the meal of its choice We're told the first few punctures They're for our own good Better carved up in pieces Than blown up in the oven Agh! Agh! Agh! Forkboy Flies by night on stolen fuel To Santa Rosa, CA Opens a fake employment office |
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