Ill show you a trick with ants when
The suns high in the sky we can
Burn them up to crisy black shells
See them crunched by old slow slick snails
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Light the fuse inside the dead bird
Feather flurries rain on our heads
Empty nests with three small brown eggs
Well think of something before the night ends

Don't hurt a fly the all say
Don't rape a girl in bright may
Don't kill anyone ever
Lay still extend this fever
The suns just
A big glass
We're all ants
I love you