there's a hole in my sock where my shoe always bites it
and that's gotta stop or else i'll feel foolish at the sock hop, yeah
the sacrament slouch neither guard is to paint in ceramic(?)
my name's marcus and i'm a martian mime
well, of course i'm a mime
where do you think i got this group of scottish trees and not a brick from brown government buildings
there's a cloud in my clock where the seconds always chide it
and that's got to stop if i'm going to ride aboard the herbivore, yeah
whose hourgla** fingers' look stung through the mask
my name's ca**ius and i've metamorphosized
into a nosy guest talking dresses made of pheasant (?) from ninety feet down gazebo and a red saber condom's horseman(??)
there's a glare from my smock where a cardinal ate his shadow
and that's got to stop if i'm going to garnish an acorn souffle
the clowns kneeled down and prayed at the (?)
away after first giving them back their bombs so they can
swallow each others (?) faces once again
once again
there's an "oh my" in "my goodness"
genuflecting as in battle
and that's gotta stop if i'm going to convert a bouncing sean marshall