january git

Lyrics

i still believe in sunday as being a day of rest, and maybe it's because i'm an irishman, that i like dublin best, still whose who are you to tell me i'm alright fred, but don't let that worry your son, for when he grows up and gets blown out of here, have yourself a-tomic bomb, now introducing maisie and on my right will be, both of whom are here now represented by, our good friend u.v.i.p. whose mundane conjectural i'd recommend, only if you like rocking jazz, intermingled with an ounce of u double k, full of eastern raj matazz, close your eyes and the door don't forge-t, if you do i take it you know what to expect, still whose who are you to tell me i'm alright, fred but don't let that worry your son, for when he grows up and gets blown out of here, have yourself a, tour-de-force-a, non-de-plume a-tomic bomb, feeling tired one degree under oh -, what you need is picking up so off you go, whose mundane conjectural i'd recommend, only if you like rocking jazz, intermingled with an ounce of u double k, full of eastern, without a doubting, polynesian raj matazz