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Three o' three.. the seconds they are sequins And the minute string, ravelled 'round the mannequin Of formless space, a party line at last that we can All embrace - and segue to the burning masses! Ten to eleven.. don't question.. just get in I think that we are losing a way Westie... you cannot drum Half past noon, visualize a centaur baying At the moon.. his profile is a silver circle Brings to mind the portraits on the coinages and Lincoln's beard, and why's he got a horse's body? Letras de canciones (Griffin, a cruiser) you'll love her.. you'll lose her I think that we are losing our way Westie.. you cannot drum Five nineteen, deluded like a Dixie-Crat.. I don't ya Clog latrine, and clean it like a Dixie-Crat.. And deck the halls with spirulina Dry route to Devon So great, like Heaven I think that we are losing a way Westie.. you cannot drum No.. Westie.. you cannot drum From Letras Mania