Luyện nghe bài hát Fryerstarter

Let me put you up on Bob's
Controller of the warm deep fryer charms cobras
Mostly it was ulcers over 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 on week night in the trenches
Where paranoia dead-ends in a florescent heaven
With
I right yum
Whether ache or fever
Keep the funnel cake I'm honey in vitro
In the company of believers
Sleepless, who hear the breath and foam at the facial features
Now the yeast, a phoenix in the hydrogenated
Equal flower, faith, healing
replace your previously nominated jesus
But only if you privy to the following of all secrets

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

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

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

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

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