We
Could play
Broken telephone
Until the words
We say make up an ancient arcane poem
To wake The Kraken from its slumber,
Put Cthulu on his throne,
Didn't mean to bring the end times,
They just got here on their own
Language is a hermit crab who's always changing homes
We're homophones
With phony homes,
This broken telephone
Lyrics Submitted by Elle
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