Choo-choo!
Choo-choo!
Choo-choo!
Choo-choo!
Choo-choo!
Choo-choo!
Choo-choo!
Choo-choo!
Choo-choo!
Choo-choo!
My face has got a grain point of flavor
But my mouth re-injects a shot in my feet
I talk like in a baby, feel his loon
Collapsing in its chaos and flaccidity
My right hand is a battle machine
My left wing is still a catastrophe
I feel like in a baby, loon is tall
Collapsing in its chaos and flaccidity
Cut off all, all, all of my conflicting parts
And let me be like a
Cut off all, all, all of my conflicting parts
And let me be like a
Like a homogeneous, like a homogeneous genius
If you cut off all, all, all of my conflicting parts
Yeah
If you cut off all, all, all of my conflicting parts