-
By Diane Cluck, Leave a little something
by the door of each places you're
-
By Diane Cluck, all my delight
came out like a hock coughed up in
-
By Diane Cluck, An ambulance at the crossroads
the crossroads in the city
and no
-
By Diane Cluck, She's got eyes like a battlefield nurse
The kind that keep
-
By Diane Cluck, Go now into the hardware
All doubts, doubts and thoughts,
And thoughts
-
By Diane Cluck, na na na ah na na na na
ah na na
-
By Diane Cluck, when the woman struggles over the men
when she sweats and
-
By Diane Cluck, God made it rain so I'd run to the bus
-
By Diane Cluck, Careful
Morning is coming
Morning is coming
Stay the hell away from the
-
By Diane Cluck, hover not bend down to give
one kiss more and then
-
By Diane Cluck, i liked you as soon as i saw you
it was
-
By Diane Cluck, hello hello hello hello hello hi hi hi
on they running
-
By Diane Cluck, Someone's ink and needles
have written skin riddles
on his body, bare
-
By Diane Cluck, man friends & woman friends & dog friends & plant
-
By Diane Cluck, the perfume of her hangs in the air
like an atmosphere
promising
-
By Diane Cluck, And the three lonely things poking up from the water
are
-
By Diane Cluck, oh since my teacher died
i am a student now
of whom
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By Diane Cluck, and great bloody hunks fell off from me
and great big
-
By Diane Cluck, I'm not what you think I am
I'm not so good,
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By Diane Cluck, na na na na na na na na na na
-
By Diane Cluck, Petite roses bend
To sniff at my ankles
Pink and red roses
-
By Diane Cluck, ooh
ah mama
ah mami
yea yea yea
ooh
ah mama
ah mami
yea yea yea
and it
-
By Diane Cluck, there's a ribbon-cuttin ceremony today
and it'll coronate me and send
-
By Diane Cluck, no way out of this one, baby
i got out before
but
-
By Diane Cluck, i grew up in sylvania
there aren't so many woods now
how
-
By Diane Cluck, and so into the woods we went
deep and deeper deep
-
By Diane Cluck, They did an experiment with babies
Back in world war II
And
-
By Diane Cluck, movin' on down the road
wasn't i glad to see you
movin'
-
By Diane Cluck, i am dreaming of the oxtail soup
and the hot fry
-
By Diane Cluck, Your million sweetnesses are sometimes not enough
To keep me laughing