Bellybowl - Ferron

    Babe you are my bellybowl
    My soft shoe shuffle
    I come behind
    I follow whole
    For me there is no other

    I look into your eyes so deep
    I see how I may need you
    I waited for the truth to ring
    I only felt it blowing

    O aren't we a stylish class
    Devoid of spirit wailing
    We've not used leaves
    To wipe our ass
    Tomorrow we'll go sailing

    Ah, drink the water
    It tastes like wine
    And wine can smell of money
    Though money may snip the
    Kharmic line
    It turns our force to honey
    Honey for our cup of tea
    And honey for our toddies
    And honey for our minds so free
    And honey for our babies

    Copyright © 1980 Nemesis Publishing, All Rights Reserved


    Marco Giunco
    Work Basket Music Words