the flowers of evil
|
you left at my door
|
set 'em in a broken glass
|
and tasted my own blood
|
|
yes your hair looks beautiful today
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gasoline horses will take us away
|
|
they charge forth
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with firey manes
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and bellies full of clocks
|
four ton
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deaf and dumb
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we poor old dogs of god
|
|
yes your hair smells like sunshine today
|
gasoline horses will take us away
|
|
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|
Gasoline Horseys
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Sparklehorse |