State the obvious, pleasant platitude
Bad policies, mega magnitude
And I, would not be surprised
If next door's roses died
And I, would not be overcome with grief
When in the shadow's cast
The trees will lose all of their leaves
Two cheeks to the wind, three sheets to set sail
Bow in the storm, we'll die on the water
My armada, three sheets to set sail
Bow in the storm, we'll die on the water
And a head of wax, should not walk in the sun
Pride goes before the fall, let's make the feathers fly
Two cheeks to the wind, three sheets to set sail
When the bow in the storm, we'll die on the water
Nothing but murder, my armada
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