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lyrics written by Mark Davies
Well-wishing ditch-digging hands. Dirt comes from staunch comedians.
Spades, hoes turn over ground. Bedrock competes with thwarting clowns. "Well'll be dry."
Big mush muddy mess. Quicksand can beat you at your best. "Why so shy?"
Holding clowns fast underwater, drowned, still holding smiles inside the cistern, beaming in sacrifice.
Glub glub, ha ha.
Laughing throats fail under surface, choke, too deep to breathe.