Born in a tight bright womb tomb. The oyster's pearl picked out the mouth of a pilate instructor's thin-throated cuckoo. Fighting foes with a swing and a swig. One wound string start's a-gallopin', till the birds start a-buzzin. We're gnawin' the wooden legs, gnashin' away as breakfast begins to brew. In the mornin' my sunshine is brushin' her long hair , up n down, goin' to town, blowin' a big bubble right at the hazy light bulb.