May I beg the thanks of Birmingham?
That’s as may be, but it’s still a frog.
Gulla gulla gulla gulla gulla.
God, it is Danzig!
It’s alreet in the heat.
I think we can get more out of this horse!
Playing tennis, in the Herald Sun.
I hate these dreams.
Layin’ earth, burn side!
How sharper than a serpent’s thanks.
Incoming!
Agricola’s granite tomb.
Who let him down the rabbit hole?
Don’t look at the ink!
Can you see my floating hair?
And part of every day.
Sing this pierogi to me.
A hundred thousand frogs per mile.
I am the crab man.
