'A Bit Of Silliness That I Like To Call: Fuzzy Caviar'
Under a sky made of ash And my head in the clouds I ran around screaming About brussel sprouts And I just didn't care I just didn't know That the ash was dirt And The clouds were snow So I froze my ears And I gave them to a pig Cuz they deep fried hers And sold them to some kid And then it caught on And food was a commodity The anorexic with no ears Became an oddity But anyway the preacher died And the queen is male And all that time she'd lied And my toast is stale. Written December 29th, 2001 © on Dec 29 2001 05:49 AM PST 10 • 0
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"Under a sky made of ash ..."