Mr. Orange

Lyrics
Drain the gourd with a muddy stick Take the body out Spit the seeds at the land Add powder for the bomb Find a human trinket And explode it with this line "I'm an arsenal in fact, and now your style is mine" Take a look, what is left? Mob of tears and ditch of weed Mr. Orange, you've grown up sad And now your orchard's science blind Dig a hole, jump inside Peek out for your fear Read about an iron hand Pretend that he is near Drink a little vodka, now Loosen up your brain Arsenals have random days Your weapons pour down rain Take a look, what becomes Of uniforms and misery? Mr. Orange, you've grown up hard And now your crop is science blind Then the admonition comes You can't find your fuzzy feet The fist that strikes you is a shard Mr. Orange, you're full of seeds You'll be here for a thousand years Sick and tired, a lofty fruit Mr. Orange, you paint up nice And now your orchard's still and pocked
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Credits
- Writers
- Matt Hart
- Flav Giorgini