The Residents: Tourniquet of Roses (Fingerprince, 1977)

The onion's in the fat And the bacon's bought the bat And the Posie's never even near the picture (Now where to went that rotten egg For feelin' up my lover's leg I'll boil him 'til the begs to be a breakfast) So I'm left all alone Because my father fought the foam And now I can't accept the pharmacy's prescription So now there is a bank Where once a summer spring Reminded us of what we thought we ought to ding.a ling For ringing ringing rockets Roar a tub of a' lard today And all that's left Is something else There is no more to say Is no more to say now... Is no more to say... Is no more to say now... Is no more to say... Is no more to say now... Is no more to say... Is no more to say now... Is no more to say... Is no more to say now... Is no more to say... Is no more to say now... Is no more to say... Is no more to say now... Is no more to say... Is no more to say now... Is no more to say... Is no more to say now... Is no more to say...