And spilleth upon de flo
Whereupon it will resideth
Unbeknownst to me
Until Julieann discovereth
And removeth… it
Bless Her little pea-pickin' heart
And when I die
It will be She, not Saint Peter
Who passes judgement
At those pearly gates
And if She is not there yet
They will make me wait outside
Until She arrives to decide
For they won’t want me there
Spillin’ stuff
If She hasn’t agreed to
Cover for me
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