the world from inside The ballroom of splendid skies And on the grand piano His hands light as butterflies He played for the rich and for the poor Thrilling
(Enshrined in death) Gor Borg got a spear through the gullet (They shall remain) Hitler had to bite the bullet Bag Lady, disemboweled Butterfly boy, raked and trowelled Butterfly
you're only sixteen And you're feeling real But you can't seem to cup a feel Why do they have to force us Through this metamorphose Little butterfly
hung it romped round in a ring It seemed to play in a tricksome way it sure was a merry thing In freakish flights strange oily lights came fluttering round its head Like butterflies
the time that your aunt needed a kidney transplant you were supposed to be there at five but you just had to see Weezer live hope you really liked Butterfly 'cause during that song, poor
little horses. So hushaby, etc. Way down yonda', down in the medder There's a poor little lambie. Bees an' the butterflies peckin' out his eyes Poor
the lock of these things Most definitely in our love are signs of knowledge Every dime I spend on you Is worth more than what I spend on the poor See
pintos and bays, all the pretty little horses. Way down yonder, in the meadow, Poor little baby cryin, "mama"; Birds and the butterflies flutter round his eyes, Poor
butt You can say I got a little weenie and I'll call you a slut I'll go up in you like a boar hog to a poor sow For mood music, Kool Moe Dee (how you
see the weather, you've got to pull the blinds They're tellin' you questions and askin' me lies, askin' me lies Well, the rich are gettin' richer and the poor
Forever, the Ryzarector in your sector (here comes the rain) From Shaolin to the holy city of Mecca (here comes the rain) [Verse One: RZA] Yo, yo, assassination, vaccination, poor
rain) Wu Tang forever, the Ryzarector in your sector (Here comes the rain) From Shaolin to the holy city of Mecca (Here comes the rain) Yo, yo, assassination, vaccination, poor
living inside a barrel a thousand years earlier than expected poor unfortunate one they're all standing in your sun like that's just so unexpected hey
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Well he came home from the war with a party in his head and modified Brougham DeVille and a pair of legs that opened up like butterfly wings and a mad
't you cry Go to sleep-y, little baby Way down yonder, down in the meadow There's a poor little lambie Bees and the butterflies pecking out his eyes Poor
dre) [Mac Dre] I'm in my sneaks with freaks on the beach was shallow Bossed up drinkin Ernest and Julio Gallo (wine) I got my rallo?? My butterfly knife