For an altar idol all it for the god of croquet.

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For an altar idol all it for the god of croquet.

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Heather -
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Come on now little baby lady, dressed in green, Daddy says you’re pretty and your mother ain’t mean, Don’t it make you wonder though the way that they pray For an altar idol all it for the god of croquet. She reeks venom! She reeks bliss! She sings her final note and then she’s riding in the Styx You bleed venom! You bleed bliss! You’re heading for disaster and you hope you don’t miss.