1. |
Tom Walker Theme
01:08
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Tom Walker
Tall Talker
Wig Rocker (RIP)
Lemon Chomper
Coconut Knocker
Left Turn Shocker
YouTube Gawker
Tom Walker
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2. |
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I got a brand new piece of mail
That I want you to read
I think that we should get together
And see what these words mean
I been staring at it a while
And realized I can’t read
But I got a brand new piece of mail—
I think my eyes are bleeding
La la la la la la la mailbag
Big Soft Titty
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3. |
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Demi
It's shower time
Demi
The stream is over
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4. |
Frozen to the Porcelain
02:21
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With a forceful kick the door splintered off its hinges
And clattered on the tile
When the dust cleared I could see my killer standing there
I stared him in the eyes
I was sitting
My trousers down around my ankles
I was shitting
Frozen to the porcelain throne
He started chuckling
Raised his right hand to aim his gun
And raised his left
To pinch his nose
And I pled
Let me stand
Before
You pull the trigger please
Let me stand
Before, I can’t let my family see
Clean that smirk from off your face
Let me wipe and die with grace
And meet my maker
With a clean slate
I lived in luxury
Built in bidet and heated seat
I knew he’d come for me
But didn’t think it’d end in here
Three squares of soft relief
Heading down to my behind
The last thing I do
Before I die
Is plead
Let me stand
Before
You pull the trigger please
Let me stand
Before, then I can die down on my knees
Return my pants back to my waist
Just let me flush and die with grace
And meet my maker
With a clean slate
I'll meet my maker
With a clean slate
With a clean asshole
And a clean slate
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5. |
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What a fucking good segue
Now let’s move on
It’s time to discuss
What popped up in your feed
Who are you following?
What did you see?
Sports or politics
Tweets and skeets
Hot takes on the TL
Fast Food Freaks
It’s our Social Media
Update!
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6. |
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The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they called Gitche Gumee
The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
When the skies of November turn gloomy
With a load of iron ore twenty-six thousand tons more
Than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty
That good ship and true was a bone to be chewed
When the gales of November came early
The ship was the pride of the American side
Coming back from some mill in Wisconsin
As the big freighters go, it was bigger than most
With a crew and good captain well seasoned
Concluding some terms with a couple of steel firms
When they left fully loaded for Cleveland
And later that night when the ship's bell rang
Could it be the north wind they'd been feelin'?
The wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound
And a wave broke over the railing
And every man knew, as the captain did too
T'was the witch of November come stealin'
The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait
When the gales of November came slashin'
When afternoon came it was freezin' rain
In the face of a hurricane west wind
When suppertime came, the old cook came on deck sayin'
"Fellas, it's too rough to feed ya"
At seven PM, a main hatchway caved in, he said
"Fellas, it's been good to know ya"
The captain wired in he had water comin' in
And the good ship and crew was in peril
And later that night when his lights went outta sight
Came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald
Does any one know where the love of God goes
When the waves turn the minutes to hours?
The searchers all say they'd have made Whitefish Bay
If they'd put fifteen more miles behind her
They might have split up or they might have capsized
They may have broke deep and took water
And all that remains is the faces and the names
Of the wives and the sons and the daughters
Lake Huron rolls, Superior sings
In the rooms of her ice-water mansion
Old Michigan steams like a young man's dreams
The islands and bays are for sportsmen
And farther below Lake Ontario
Takes in what Lake Erie can send her
And the iron boats go as the mariners all know
With the gales of November remembered
In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed
In the maritime sailors' cathedral
The church bell chimed 'til it rang twenty-nine times
For each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald
The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they called Gitche Gumee
Superior, they said, never gives up her dead
When the gales of November come early
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