Butthole Surfers - Lonesome Bulldog - Sözleri

Get alone, lonesome bulldog 

It's turning to spring 

Get alone, lonesome bulldog 

It's that time again 

Though it's raining 

Stop complaining 

There's a long 

Road to bear 

Get alone, lonesome bulldog 

Get alone, over there, 

Get alone, lonesome bulldog 

In spring.



Well, Mahatma Ghandi was a little spindly bottom ying ragged headed boy, who grew up in a Western Kentucky village called Johnstonvile, in Harrison County, there he grew up. His mother was a white woman, his father was a rastifarian, he refused to buy the family seafood on their outings. There he developed a taste for convertibles, blonde haired women, and big old long Indian dig, so get alone, get alone little Mahatma Ghandi in the spring. 



Get alone, lonesome bulldog 

While there's snow on the ground 

Get alone, lonesome bulldog 

Where you'll never be found 

In the morning 

Without warning 

And there's 

No food to share 

Get alone, lonesome bulldog 

Get alone, over there, 

Get alone, lonesome bulldog 

In spring.



Well pretty soon little Mahatma Ghandi was going 300 miles per hour, and I'll tell you what, he was going 300 miles per hour was because his strangely turbo charged penis head was making him do it that why, just kidding. Mahatma Ghandi had a tremendous career at high school, college, and in law school, and in the house of representatives. There he found himself as a presidential candidate, and met up with Mary Joe Pipette, and across the (?) bridge they did ride. So get alone, get alone little Mahatma Ghandi in the spring.




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