Lyrics:
. . . . . . . . . . . 470
Thrush, and Sore mouth. 40
Tympany . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13
Tissick . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
wrong with me
Fucked her best friend Jenny, yo that bitch burnt me with the thrush
Had my whole fuckin' throat fucked up
At the Alameda Hospital, all toe
doesn't flow
To a spot in a your nipple oh
Damn it hurts
Fear the thrush
Feel the rush
It's letdown getdown
So getdown let that milk down
Said getdown let
overhead
In a full-hearted evensong
Of joy illimited
An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small, in blast-beruffled plume
Had chosen thus to fling his soul
Upon
to reinstate her
100 days
Vanish into haze
100 days
Vanish into haze
After all, the fledgling thrush does fall
Do they remember why they left the nest at all
a flower crush
And a chirping thrush
A lovely nightbird
Writing a quiet word
That's never heard
And quite absurd
Sounds and seasons
Rhymes and reasons
Let's get mythical, I'll be Zeus and you'll be my thrush
Let's get physical, even though I know that word makes you blush
Let's get comical, one more
so gay
Each meadow in its prime
Where the blackbird and the golden thrush
They tune their notes so gay
But still I have a notion of
Going to Amerikay
they’re thrush
Using people like they’re thru-u-ush
Y ahora que el invierno ya ha llegao’,
estoy sola en casa,
y me haces falta
No, no, no, no, no, no
An aged thrush, frail, gaunt and small, with blast-beruffled plume,
Had chosen thus to fling his soul upon the growing gloom.
So little cause for carolings
window and down across my sight lines
to the river where the evening thrush resides
along the water winding through woods and open fields
my imagination
A Satyrs despair
A Slight of the hand
And all is forgotten
Thrush spirits left haunted
Tidings at bay
No need for sight
No need for mourning
No need
The thrush in the forest, the lark in the field
Sing like their lives depend on the song
My mind has been full, but my voice has been still
In all
The devil curse is worse than a woman's curse,
And hell in deeper than the sea
The lark sings first, the thrush sings best,
Earth is where the dew falls
What the thrush toils at
The partridge asks for
The hapless one takes
The troubled one steals
Puts upon a spade
Sets on a runner
Hides under
It is night, it is death,
It's a trap, it's a gun
The oak when it blooms,
A fox in the brush,
A knot in the wood,
The song of a thrush
It is night, it is death,
It's a trap, it's a gun
The oak when it blooms,
A fox in the brush,
A knot in the wood,
The song of a thrush
roadway
Light scattered skyline
No sweeter promise
Smell of this highlife
Hole on my heart where a hill and a tree were
Score for a song thrush in that
the sunrise,
Every rose is heavy with dew,
The thrush on high his sleepy mate is calling,
And my heart is calling you.
Dear one, the world is waiting for
Brother Thrush, how you fly so high
Way up in the clouds
The trees resound with open arms
For one so rare
Brother Man just can't compare
When we're
rattlin' and a ' clattering' on the old flaggy shore
Where the cliffs at Kilkee they challenge the sea
And I sang like a thrush in the town of Kilrush
I
wave - pulsating in its dominance, and eclipsing all focus. You felt it too, like the beating wings of the thrush. Then brings the storm. Without
and tell so much, they all got thrush)
Everybody got damages, everybody got problems
Everybody gon' tell on you, never spill out your problems
Give
awakened all things that be
The lark and the thrush and the swallow free
The stars burn out in the clear blue air
The thin white moon lies withering there.
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