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letras de
Gwar
JE M'APPELLE J. COUSTEAU
0 opinión
Letra y Significado de
JE M'APPELLE J. COUSTEAU,
Gwar
Significados y Opiniones (
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Letra
Oh no! Esta misteriosa letra aun no encontro explicación. Si estas acá, podes ser la primer persona que aporte el significado de esta canción. No es necesario registrarse, puede ser anonimo. Hace clic en el botón verde y envianos tu opinión.
:)
Envia tu opinión de JE M'APPELLE J. COUSTEAU
Envia tu opinión de JE M'APPELLE J. COUSTEAU
Was there at the cattle fair, where
lump fairies swear at glories far be-
yond the fabric that she wears. He said
"Do ya wanna chair?" I'd join him any-
where! A hole in the ground, in this
theatre I found J.C.'s infernal horde--
they caper, they banter, forming human
pyramids, all to please--their infernal
Lord...Whoa! His name is J. Cousteau!!!
A pussy and I know you know!! I know
you know, and there he goes. He goes and
grows, on gosh, he knows--Aboard the
Calypso!! The foam beside, and a burly
sea to ride, all spell goodness for the
master of the whirling pimple tides.
He tried and fried until the rusted
hinges sighed, and then he stepped
inside! He found her there, swimming
in her seaweed hair, looking vaguely
like a lover who has hung herself with
underwear--Phosphorescent green and
the sex-act made obscene, in Jacques
galleon of hatred--This wrinkled French-
man is a living god!!!
Cousteau, you know, where the dying
dolphins go, and the wasteland ever growing,
never slowing till it's far below--Put it
on your T.V. show--and let the humans
know!!!
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Corregir Letra
Was there at the cattle fair, where lump fairies swear at glories far be- yond the fabric that she wears. He said "Do ya wanna chair?" I'd join him any- where! A hole in the ground, in this theatre I found J.C.'s infernal horde-- they caper, they banter, forming human pyramids, all to please--their infernal Lord...Whoa! His name is J. Cousteau!!! A pussy and I know you know!! I know you know, and there he goes. He goes and grows, on gosh, he knows--Aboard the Calypso!! The foam beside, and a burly sea to ride, all spell goodness for the master of the whirling pimple tides. He tried and fried until the rusted hinges sighed, and then he stepped inside! He found her there, swimming in her seaweed hair, looking vaguely like a lover who has hung herself with underwear--Phosphorescent green and the sex-act made obscene, in Jacques galleon of hatred--This wrinkled French- man is a living god!!! Cousteau, you know, where the dying dolphins go, and the wasteland ever growing, never slowing till it's far below--Put it on your T.V. show--and let the humans know!!!
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