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Yee yee! We've found 257 lyrics, 3 artists, and 0 albums matching candidates..

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Now and then eee eee

Baby Gal I'm the candidate e
Baby Gal I'm the candidate e
Baby Gal I'm the candidate e e e

Baby Gal I'm the candidate e
Baby Gal
Inside every candidate waits a grateful dead

I make it a thing, when I'm on my own to relieve myself
I make it a thing, when I gazelle on stage
Well I'm a candidate for suicide the more that I get old
I'm a candidate for suicide the drugs have taken their toll
I'm a candidate for suicide I
Well I'm A Candidate for suicide the more that I get old, I'm A candidate for suicide the drugs have taken their toll, I'm A candidate for suicide I
I am the candidate, I hope your voting for me
Candid candidate, making promises so easily
I am the candidate
But I'm not your favorite son, you say
I
Oh, the candidate's a dodger, yes, a well-known dodger,
Oh, the candidate's a dodger, yes, and I'm a dodger too.
He'll meet you and treat you and ask
doubt she's 
Stealing what she confiscates
Chalking it all up to fate
That is why she always waits
For the perfect candidate

She's got every reason
A whole bunch of big shots bums, now you know that
Opinions, wifepiece - hers fat
You wish a rapper could be better than perfect
Candidate, who talk shit
bunch of big shots bums, now you know that
Opinions, wife piece hers fat
You wish a rapper could be better than perfect
Candidate, who talk s*** anyway
thing"


[Part Two: Candidate]

I'll make you a deal, like any other candidate
We'll pretend we're walking home 'cause your future's at stake
My set
hey

Sitting on a sofa on a Sunday afternoon.
Going to the candidate's debate.
Laugh about it, shout about it
When you've got to choose
Every way
Robinson.
Heaven holds a place for those who pray,
Hey, hey, hey
Hey, hey, hey

Sitting on a sofa on a Sunday afternoon.
Going to the candidate's debate.
when he sought the Presidency."
SENATOR DAN QUAYLE (Vice Presidential candidate)

"Senator, you're no Jack Kennedy."
(SENATOR LLOYD BENTSEN of Texas
Robinson.
Heaven holds a place for those who pray,
Hey, hey, hey
Hey, hey, hey

Sitting on a sofa on a Sunday afternoon.
Going to the candidate's debate.
think you're stud
But actually a dud
You think you're stud
And that's all you deserve
Misunderstand the truth as curse
Poor candidates for 27 club
Feed me
comes, the candidate
Blue eyed boy, United States
Vote for him, the candidate

Diamonds cut, diamonds cut for the karats
Plaster of Paris, the floats
comes, the candidate
Blue eyed boy, United States
Vote for him, the candidate

Diamonds cut, diamonds cut for the karats
Plaster of Paris, the floats
Inside the lonely building
Sits the candidate
His speech is typed and ready
The hundred-dollar plates
Sit on deserted tables
Beneath fluorescent
of ancient tribalism and trust me nobody cares

For I am your candidate
I am bloody lips and makeup
I'm your caliphate, opioids and mutilation
A celebrity
CANDIDATES, verbal assaults and political rape
Cast your vote do not complain, a small donation to their campaign

Liberals, conserves, indies and greens,
The dirty tricks department is working overtime
Trying to stop the candidate from getting this time
The wheels are now in motion all the traps are
those who pray, 
Hey, hey, hey 

Sitting on a sofa on a Sunday afternoon. 
Going to the candidate's debate. 
Laugh about it, shout about it 
When
The Candidate

People in the wet rain
Moving in disguise
So many wounded eyes
So many secret lies
Moving in their mansions
Silent wandering
Secret
She's fantastic, she says "Man, it's great"
She shakes hands, she's like a candidate
She's so happy it's a carnival
She gets snappy, she's

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