Popcorn, for that open mouth
And a rearview mirror to remember
What he screwed up
Green flies, for that crop
And a treasure of his screwed up so that he remembers
That he screwed up.
He lost his tongue, talking about more
Of his mistakes
Green flies, for the charlatan ¡n
And a kick in the butt
So that I remember
That that was my paw
I don't know why I spoke
If he regretted it later
From his handwriting
Maybe he feared that his luck would
It would hit his unconscious mind
And not let him sleep
I don't know why I spoke
If later he regretted his writing
Maybe he feared his fate
He would beat his unconscious
And he would not let him sleep
Green flies to the charlatan
And he would never speak again

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