Tourniquet of Roses

The onion's in the fat

And the bacon's bought the bat

And the Posie's never even near the picture

(Now where to went that rotten egg

For feelin' up my lover's leg

I'll boil him 'til the begs to be a breakfast)

So I'm left all alone

Because my father fought the foam

And now I can't accept the pharmacy's prescription

So now there is a bank

Where once a summer spring

Remined us of what we thought we ought to ding.a ling

For ringing ringing rockets

Roar a tub of a' lard today

And all that's left

Is something else

There is no more to say

Is no more to say now... Is no more to say...

Is no more to say now... Is no more to say...

Is no more to say now... Is no more to say...

Is no more to say now... Is no more to say...

Is no more to say now... Is no more to say...

Is no more to say now... Is no more to say...

Is no more to say now... Is no more to say...

Is no more to say now... Is no more to say...

Is no more to say now... Is no more to