Spore licking with the fever
Like something in the spirit
Gives our kin's stud an extra hour
To streak his hair
And feed his sparrow

Franco inferno
Franco inferno
Franco
Franco, Franco, Franco

Every minute I'll be neither
With the patience in the winter
The ceiling we've painted Liechtenstein
No one knows about the crease delight

We can let it sign
His sparrow hints of the sick and bent
He bent the slickest end
Franco, Franco, Franco, Franco, Franco, Franco, Franco
We're dead and gone to Franco's pad

Open leisure
Sparrow easier
Franco freezer
Sparrow easier

Franco inferno
Franco inferno
Franco inferno