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I keep hanging around your kitchenette
And I'm gonna get a pot to cook you in
I stick my fingers in your biscuit jar
And crush all your Gingerbread Men
Cause I want you
I want you to be my friend
I want you
I wanna be your solitary man
Try not to wake the executioner
He's sleeping with a fireman's axe
He leaves his glass eye on the pillow
And his dentures floating there in a glass
What's this husband of yours ever given to you
Oprah Winfrey on a plasma screen
And a brood of jug-eared buck-toothed imbeciles
The ugliest kids I've ever seen
Now I know that you don't really dig him
And I can see that you want it to quit
But if you want to get your hand out of the cookie jar
You have to let go of the biscuit!
HATA BİLDİR
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