Horshoes splackin' swallows haycart, cart-horse
Of the peasant blockin' his path
Power showin', spits out hay-cart, cart-horse
Hay and box at the gates of anholt
At the court of the count, made fruits exotic pleasure-lichous
Appear behind curtains in winter
At the decadent court, made animals from
Sun-lands appear in the sparse gartens of vinter in ze likkle willage
Horse-shoes clackin', swallows cart-horse
Hay-cart of the peasant blockin' his path
Must leave his student friends
Faustus!
Come get yer chips!
Pull me blood silhouette, treu the ceiling sky
Cast me blood silhouette, thru the ceiling sky
A strong comment here is specific: the phrase you keep hearing, the mood you come back for, or the reason this song stays in rotation.
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