How tired I am,
Of insecure women,
Though society makes them wrong,
Who don't desire our dirty work.
But we throw our dishes,
At their Mexican heads,
And abuse them greenly.
Oh what a graveyard,
Lonely and somnolent,
What a song it rings,
So sleepy.
Of insecure women,
Though society makes them wrong,
Who don't desire our dirty work.
But we throw our dishes,
At their Mexican heads,
And abuse them greenly.
Oh what a graveyard,
Lonely and somnolent,
What a song it rings,
So sleepy.
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