La, la, la, la, la, la, la, etc.



   Billie and my friend the saint,

   You're perfect in so many ways,

   But you never looked hard 

   at a fetus in a jar

   you never saw your mama change.



   And this wonderland of spite,

   Does not shine into your night,

   Like widows are seen

   As stigmatised beings,

   Who ought to have second chance.



   And hurricanes spin

   Like debutantes in a trance.



   Sue the fortune-teller,

   Rue the rising tide,

   General Washington,

   patented that skull,

   Throw him out.



   Ship that hollandaise,

   Feel the heart fell of touch

   See the longer you tease,

   The stronger the needs,

   The highs and the fruit are long.



   Up to the one a kid,

   Call the bluff when the money's in,

   You're a hungry matron,

   And you are just what I need,

   I was tired of the best years of my life.



   Sue the fortune-teller,

   Rue the rising tide,

   General Washington,

   Patented that skull,

   Throw him out.