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The Paddington Frisk

To be strung up on a leafless tree,

Where everything dies and nothing grows

Hanging like moulding fruit

One last dance whilst you decompose

On come the paddington spectacles

A black plague over all I admired

A vegetable breakfast, a hearty choke

Seems like the whole world conspired

But there stood a man

He was cut up, distraught and cold

But amongst the wreckage of his ribcage

His heart still thudded as he said

I regard myself as a soldier

Though a soldier of peace

I know the value of discipline and truth

I must ask you to believe me when I say…

No matter if it all backfires kid

No matter if it all goes wrong

We just gotta get ourselves together

We've sat still for far too long

Now this ain't over yet

As far as I can see…

We've only just begun

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Lyrics submitted by Samantha.

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