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Your Ankles to Your Earlobes

Shame,

Shame on you

And your sweet head on the pillow

Take the pills, dear, let your hair grow

Take a knee, believe you me

With ankles to the earlobes

Bite your lip, dead, make a wish, girl

Bless your heart, bless your heart, bless your heart

Pox, a pox on you!

So what do you have to say for yourself

When the gangbang's done and no one's left to appease?

Aren't you fetching with finger cuffs and knock-knees?

We make a warm bed for the YankeesBless your heart, bless your heart, bless your heart

So, Abby, it's far too late for me

I left a notebook on the shelf just take the kids and save yourself

My little Abby, and soon they'll come for me

just tell my son that I'm sorry

I'll disappear, you no are free

And Abby, it's far too late for me

My sweet Abby, I hope you die laughing

All fat and cheek on your warm bed

The raven , the vulture won't circle your head

My sweet queen bee, I hope it comes quickly

I hope your thoughts don't drift to me

I'll die in here, you now are free

You now are free

My precious thing

Songwriters

JOHN ASHLEY CONGLETONPublished by

Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, DOMINO PUBLISHING COMPANY Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.

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