Lyrics:
our own prize-winner The pacing is amazing straighten up and swipe right turnstile belly boy I got piles of bills..........you've got pockets to fill
me the crumbs off the table After you're done with your feast I'll take whatever's leftover After all the prize-winners eat I'll clean off all of your
since But none of that same old medicine is helping me to sleep at night I could've been a prizewinner, the pick of the litter, if I had the chance again
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