Luyện nghe bài hát Fryerstarter

Let me put you up on donuts
Controller of the warm deep fryer charms cobras
Mostly it was aggravated ulcers goat's legs
Will they go for maple, custard, buttermilk or wolfs
Hm, late after your cinderella pulsate and I was rotating casts
Picture if you will a witching hour on week night in the
Where dead-ends in a bright florescent heaven
sprinkles
I right yum
Whether ache or fever
Keep the funnel I'm honey glaze in vitro
In the of similar believers
Sleepless, who hear the walls breath and at the facial features
Now the yeast, a phoenix in the hydrogenated
Equal parts flower, faith,
Might replace previously nominated jesus
But only if you privy to the secret of all secrets

Shh, every night at 12 would march out from the back
With a tray of raw dough for the of hot fat
Show up around 1 never get your god
If you're just tuning in, walk into the

I oil too, not for scarfing
For CCs of japanese innovation that screech free parking
heart and 2nd chin that beseech him to squeeze the carbs into the motherboard
You can chew the eucharist in cruller
Locally a seedy danish underworld is bustling where jelly's not a it's a puppet string
Pluck, for canola
5 cow like a mime with a rope going nowhere
Fast, right hand of god on my shoulder, crows swollen, dopey
Combing apple over with folk of opposing cultures
Baby sitter cop thief reverend, body glitter, botched c-section, teeth
Each progressively sequestered
Yet if threatened will defend the rasin as codefendants
Some lose or view it as superstition
You can tell a friend ifyou are down to them

Shh, night at 12 they would march out from the back
With a tray of raw for the pool of hot fat
Show up 1 never get your god back
If just tuning in, walk into the light

The fat boys are back, foam fingers over arms
To reclaim their stomachs from golden jars
And stagger through the ofthe gulch on a builder's dividends
Hiding high his guilty powdered-sugar fingerprints
Seething eventide fever, feeling a little dicey
I'm straight to the cakes icing
Might, fortune-teller up your favorite paper tiger
Great, grace invaders, the first-name basis patron
Who compromise the pilot and flavors
Silent night, holy night, the pious out the pagan
Midnight kitchen un-caging the enablers like butchers in bloody aprons
Can I get a fucking
AMEN, raiders of the lost,
navigate consecutive pastries stations of the cross
No no dayjob
Know the folk where it virgin mary by the loaf
bob

Shh, every night at 12 would march out from the back
a tray of raw dough for the pool of hot fat
Show up around 1 get your god back
If you're just tuning in, walk the light