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Butthole Surfers Miscellaneous Lonesome Bulldog Get alone, lonesome bulldog It�s turning to spring Get alone, lonesome bulldog It�s that time again Though it�s raining Stop complaining There�s a long Road to bear Get alone, lonesome bulldog Get alone, over there, Get alone, lonesome bulldog In spring. Well, Mahatma Ghandi was a little spindly bottom ying ragged headed boy, who grew up in a Western Kentucky village called Johnstonvile, in Harrison County, there he grew up. His mother was a white woman, his father was a rastifarian, he refused to buy the family seafood on their outings. There he developed a taste for convertibles, blonde haired women, and big old long Indian dig, so get alone, get alone little Mahatma Ghandi in the spring. Get alone, lonesome bulldog While there�s snow on the ground Get alone, lonesome bulldog Where you�ll never be found In the morning Without warning And there�s No food to share Get alone, lonesome bulldog Get alone, over there, Get alone, lonesome bulldog In spring. Well pretty soon little Mahatma Ghandi was going 300 miles per hour, and I�ll tell you what, he was going 300 miles per hour was because his strangely turbo charged penis head was making him do it that why, just kidding. Mahatma Ghandi had a tremendous career at high school, college, and in law school, and in the house of representatives. There he found himself as a presidential candidate, and met up with Mary Joe Pipette, and across the (?) bridge they did ride. So get alone, get alone little Mahatma Ghandi in the spring. |
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