Lyrics:
rollin' death tollin', of course the car's stolen
But I'm blind to what's wrong, all I want is what's golden
A fool in a fight, too dumb to know right
within the apple
My slang is editorial explicit material
Briefcase yo, live in stereo flow
Feel me, Donna realty
Set the black people free
Set
"Billie Joe never had a lick of sense, pass the biscuits please"
"There's five more acres in the lower forty I got to plow"
And mama said, "It was
I was walking down the road that leads to nowhere,
tempted by a golden cup that overfloweth.
I held a basket in my hand of red and yellow
flowers for
in a golden
Living in a golden
Living in a golden cage
Oh
Living in a golden cage
Lif in a golden cage
Day by day
it looks like paradise
Paradise
By
Well, Billy Joe never had a lick of sense; pass the biscuits, please
There's five more acres in the lower forty I've got to plow
And mama said it was
"Well, Billie Joe never had a lick of sense, pass the biscuits, please"
"There's five more acres in the lower forty I've got to plow"
Mama said it was
"Well Billy Joe never had a lick of sense, pass the biscuits, please"
"There's five more acres in the lower forty I've got to plow"
'n' Mama said it was
There were flowers from the boy pigs
Who were drinking in their barn digs
In suits of powdered blue
With those ruffled shirts on, too
All ordered
Every thread of creation is held in position
By still other strands of things living.
In an earthly tapestry hung from the skyline
Of smoldering
Gone making love with the flowers
Sweetly your mind melts to mess
Sigh for the ones you pass by
And poison your thickening bliss
Golden hour
Golden
flower
So we can grow
Evenings, evenings by the lake
Time, time we've left to take
Together, we will be
We will share the sun
Fading from golden into none
By standing in the road alone
Standing watching the fires burn
The northern sky it stinks with greed
You can smell it for miles around
Good old boys in
There is still perhaps have many good apples waiting for the right person
Many golden apples still hiding in their cubicle space and seldom interact
light and thistle, O!
Golden light and thistle, O!
As it stirs, the smell of firs,
and golden light and thistle, O.
In the rest o' the zephyr's breath,
"Well Billy Joe never had a lick of sense, pass the biscuits, please"
"There's five more acres in the lower forty I've got to plow"
'N' Mama said it was
"Well, Billie Joe never had a lick of sense, pass the biscuits, please"
"There's five more acres in the lower forty I've got to plow"
Mama said it was
In a cage
If you could be the only one
Anybody could be
If jet fuel
Ever could melt steel
I would ease your worried mind
Like some golden apple
And I
"Well, Billie Joe never had a lick of sense, pass the biscuits, please"
"There's five more acres in the lower forty I've got to plow"
Mama said it was
attached
I turned in all my rap chips I'm earning my bachelors
By dating all the models and actresses
I'm learning all the potholes in every single barrio
Well, Billy Joe never had a lick of sense; pass the biscuits, please
There's five more acres in the lower forty I've got to plow
And mama said it was
I give you what you need, proceed to keep it raw
Your choice, you can live or die, either or
Have them candles and flowers by that bodega store
"Well, Billy Joe never had a lick of sense, pass the biscuits, please"
"There's five more acres in the lower forty I've got to plow"
And Mama said it was
Starvation is the creation of the devil, a rebel
I'm bringin' food to the people like a widow
Bringin' flowers to a grave in the middle
.jpg/300px-Apples-in-Stereo-Primavera-Festival-(edit).jpg "The Apples in Stereo")
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