Of Montreal
Inside A Room Full Of Treasures A Black Pygmy Horse's Head Pops Up Like A Periscope
There's a hole in my sockWhere my shoe always bites itAnd that's got to stop or elseI'll feel foolish at the sock-hop, yeahThe sacraments slouchNear the garnish toupet with ceramicMy name's Marcus and I'm a Martian mimeWell, of course I'm a mimeWhere do you think I gotThis scoop of Scottish cheeseAnd not a brickFrom brown government buildings?There's a cloud in my clockWhere the seconds always chide itAnd that's got to stopIf I'm going to ride aboard the herbivore, yeahWhose hourglass fingersLook starved through the maskMy name's Cassius and I've metamorphosizedInto a nosy guest talking dressesMade of pheasant breastsFrom magazine gown gazeboAnd a red-sabred pompous horsemanLetras de cancionesThere's a glare from my smockWhere a cardinal ate his shadowAnd that's got to stopIf I'm going to garnish an acorn souffleThe clowns kneel down and prayThat the police will go awayAfter first giving them back their balmsSo they can swat each other's bearded facesOnce again, once againThere's an "oh my" and "my goodness"Genuflecting as in battleAnd that's got to stopIf I'm going to convert a bouncing Chan Marshall
From Letras Mania