That boy Smith's got lard for a tongue
He looks like a gun or a bun or a bung
He's a basket case, he's a siren fodder
His face is odd and his voice is odder
Yeah, implement
Yeah, yeah
That boy Smith's got, bold, insane
He sings songs but he doesn't hear
There's a gun in his mouth
And music in his ear, yeah
Yeah, implement
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, implement
Yeah, yeah

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