Old Toy Room (A Pie In The Window)

Warcloud

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    [Intro: Warcloud]
    Lucky charms...
    When it rains the flowers drip candy
    To attack and spit ground...

    [Chorus x2: Warcloud]
    Hot apple pie, a scoop of vanilla ice cream
    Shavings of white and dark chocolate melted over
    Crushed up almonds and peanuts, taste
    Niagara grapes, the highest in mental states

    [Warcloud:]
    A mosquito in the book store, dastardly tales of torment
    Street corner minds and bad medicine vendors
    Try to overthrow you, take the celestial railroad
    Vitamins and intense oil, moist in poetry
    Deep depths of gun, that's a falling of sparrows
    Music from the sun, a simple art of war
    Trouble is my business, vital summer observer
    Evil is the victim, merchant prince of burglars
    Who struck each down, snatchin' ya fake veils
    Got parrots wit pterodactyl wings and snake tails
    They whistle when I feed them, demons fingers and toes
    Fair well my lovely, blood-curdling scenery
    Chateau, Braille, Capon, an allure
    Alcazar, on the balcony, dunkin' donuts in Java
    Last my horizon, never sound retreat
    The lost regiment, rise of the walking dead
    Battle flag tattered in stain, call us windigos
    Sasquatch, Yeti, battalion with one head
    All devils fled, of man, they were a replica
    Indians and cowboys, cops and robbers, America
    Long good-bye, I'm headed towards Arabia
    Persian in states, and pyramids made of ice
    Milk not, gather no sand, mighty architect
    Creator of all, and rest within the universe
    Soon to burst, acid, rocks, flesh and silver
    Never speak in questions, the scriptures of a building

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    [Chorus x2]

    [Warcloud:]
    Astronaut candy, space caramel, jelly beans
    Gyms from around the world, sparkle Knights
    Blue socks, fancy red shoes, shiny bottle caps
    Toy chest, green and white blocks, triangle buttons
    Baseball gloves, a book of picture riddles
    I swing on moonshine, and a big city with fiddle
    Little do they know, it'll be sunset for those
    Telephone poles, dirty pistols and foes
    Gun 'em down, that rough magic, sugar time
    Briefcase man, sand castles and bowling pins
    Barrels full of cherries, grapes and rusty nails
    Steel corn chips, Spanish peanuts and dusty rail
    Headin' down stone steps towards the old attic
    Architect static, Pacific to the Atlantic
    Arctic, Indian Ocean, black sand
    Toe prints, gray sea shells, French vanilla
    Seven horses, seven arrows, seven scalps
    Over night delivery, sailin' the seven seas
    Seven corks in champagne bottles, sit in the breeze
    A bust off of which, smoke stacks and trees
    Money comes from paper, smoke comes from burnin' it
    Smoke stacks are made from metal found in the ground
    Same as the buzz-saw, paper comes from wood
    Any answer to the question's, no good, that is the hood
    No friendly neighbor, set plants in animals
    Cain before Abel is cannibal, understandable

    [Chorus x3]

    [Outro: Warcloud]
    Jill got her feet cut off while she slept
    Eighty eight black birds on a telephone wire
    One peacock at the top
    That was the house that Jack built

    Información de la canción

    Composición: Warcloud

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