We wash your clothes but the dirt won’t come out
And no one knows what the hell your all about
Walt Whitman
Walt Whitman
You had cool thoughts of life and all it’s joys
And you had thoughts of hot sex with teenage boys
Walt Whitman
Walt Whitman
And when we sing this song your voice comes out
We sing but it won’t be long before we shout
Walt Whitman
Walt Whitman
What rivers are these
What forests and fruits are these
What persons and cities are here
What myrids of dwellings are they filled with dwellers
What widens within you Walt Whitman (x6)
Walt Whitman
Walt Whitman