Story

How about another story
I'm sure that's just what you need
It's got a heavy moral and a hip philosophy
So if you got the patience
Well I know I've got the disease

It started out in Munich
A very long time ago
A man their owned the butcher shop
And the blood ran out the door
He locked of three of his fingers
And he kept'em out of the war
Now his wife was large and clever
Like a butcher's wife should be
The children loved their baken lard was,. constantly
The dog chewed on old knee joints and gobbled congealed grease
The butcher had a credo that he liked to spread around
If you looking for a sausage well you've come to the right part of town
He laughed loud like a general and a clevo went up and down
And the days where long and rosy with never a sight of regret
When in to the shop came Kafka, boy he was definitely back form the dead
I need a butcher for my new parable, and you perfect one he said
You'll wake up soon as a pig my friend, and not just in my book
I used a cockroach once before but nobody understood
A mob will chase you trough the street and track you in the wood
In the forest you'll find a clearing where all living things are save
You'll, yourself on berry's and sleep in a nearby cave
A simple life for a simple creature the rest of your natural days
So if you ever need a butcher hacking feet of off a pig
You better tell him about Kafka, you better tell him what Kafka did
He is a trouble making Czech clerk and he knows just where you live

How about another story
I'm sure that's just what you need
It's got a heavy moral and a new philosophy
So if you've got the patience
Well I'm sure I've got the disease

Once their where two sisters in love with a whiskey priest
He roam the hot savannah on a sacred wilder beast
The sisters carried crosses and followed on shoeless feet
After the seven years they came about an island in the sand
The padre broke bottle and carved a starry to his hand
They all fell to their knees to praise his barren choking land