1967 Beans boiled in a gypsy pot On a dusty
dirt road We kissed and stuck our necks out of the car
Your big brother's wife was a bitch I said she cried like a man
or Male hippo, she'll betray us one day
Clouds pile up on your brows like tumbleweed around your ankles,
swaying, dangling on the taxman's raft toward the middle of the river
, his face plump but shrunken, Lips trembling
No one hears the last cry of the doomsday, we laugh
We carry the cake on our shoulders,
scoop the cream of capitalism with the cake fork and
feed each other's mouth
Clyde, oh dear Clyde
Let's hold each other's hands tightly when the bullet goes through the heart
You laugh like the children we'll never be born
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