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 Phish PhishАмериканская рок-группа

Sloth

They call me the sloth



Way down in the ghetto



Italian Spaghetti



Singing falsetto



Sleeping all day



Rip Van Winklin'



Spend my nights in bars



Glasses tinklin'





I'm so bad



He's so nasty



Ain't got no friends



Real outcasty



Stay out of my way



Or you'll end up a cripple



I'll take this piece of paper



And slice you in the nipple





[repeat first verse]









Colonel Forbin stared at the fourteen bars that stood at the end of the cell. He ran his hand across the cold, damp dungeon wall and thought again about the door. He had traveled through the door out of necessity. Once he knew it existed, he simply couldn't leave it alone. Just like Wilson. Just like Tela. Just like Errand Wolfe. And he sat in the dungeon, and he realized that he was back again; through the door. And through the tiny window in the corner of his cell, he heard the distant strains...





Errand... Errand... Errand... Errand...



And from atop the mountain Icculus looked down on all that went on below him. And he smiled...

Phish

Sloth / Phish

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