I can't know the song of the south

When my needle points north.

The blue south elegant with lovely lake

Eyes in a smiling river on fire look at me



Ape, the tailor whose fine linens he knows

Makes a man out of safety pins

Proud as an indian

I figure in future years i'll be stained by the tears

Of desperate clinging



Miracle girls commercially perfect

Excel at port authority

Shall i run out to meet your hopes

Of liquor, tobacco & chocolate?

Up on chalkleg mirror mountain

Subtle and juicy




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