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Butterfly

de DeWolff

No matter where I turn to, shit goes south
Trouble, trouble, trouble
No matter where I turn to, shit goes south
Yeah, it does now

The way the Sun don't rise in the morning
In a warm heard tonight

And when that Sun comes round round
Shining a bright red glow glow
I'm a little man yes he is
Casting a big old shadow
I'm tired, tired, tired
Slipping and crash landed flat on my face

I think I need to go down in the ice hole
Easily without a trace

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