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(Yo, something's wrong here. No, not again!) 
(Get the daisies for the...)
 
 Potholes in my lawn
 
 DOVE:
 Everybody's sayin'
 What to do when suckin' lunatics start diggin' and chewin'
 They don't know that the Soul don't go for that
 Potholes in my lawn
 And that goes for my rhyme sheet
 Which I concentrated so hard on, see
 I don't ask for maximum security
 But my dwellin' is swellin'
 It nipped my bud when I happened to fall
 Into a spot
 Where no ink or an ink-blot
 Was on a scroll
 I just wrote me a new 'mot'
 But now it's gone
 There's no
 Suckers knew that I hate
 To recognise that every time I'm writin'
 It's gone
 
 (Yodel-a-hee, Yodel-oh-hee, Yodel-a)
 (Yodel-a-hee, Yodel-oh-hee, Yodel-ee-hee-hee-hee)
 
 Potholes in my lawn
 
 POS:
 I've found that it's not wise
 To leave my garden untended
 'Cause eyes have now pardoned all laws of privacy
 Even paws are after my writer
 See, I've found that everyone's sayin'
 What to do when suckers are preyin'
 On my well-guarded spreadsheets
 Oh why, hell does it send up fleets
 Of evil-doers through the big hole
 To get to evil-doers who dig holes
 Which leaves my lawn with lawn-chew
 I think I'd better plant traces to give clues
 Or better yet call 911
 And when they get here I inform them I'm the Plug One
 Open a chair and let them realize the reason
 For concern of the Soul,
 'Cause we've come down with a case of potholes
 
 (Yodel-a-hee, Yodel-oh-hee, Yodel-a)
 (Yodel-a-hee, Yodel-oh-hee, Yodel-ee-hee-hee-hee)
 
 Potholes in my lawn
 
 (Who stole, who stole, who stole the cookie
 from the cookie jar?)
 
 DOVE:
 Now you got the message
 What to do when you die
 The death that I predict in 'Plug Tunin'
 It's a shame that you deny to claim
 That you stole my words of fame
 That I wrote in my rhyme sheet
 Which I concentrated so hard on, see
 I don't ask for a barbed wire fence, B
 But my dwellin' is swellin'
 It nipped my bud when I happened to fall
 Into a spot
 Where no ink or an ink-blot
 Was on a scroll
 I just wrote me a new 'mot'
 But now it's gone there's no
 Suckers knew that I hate
 To recoginse that every time I'm writin'
 It's gone
 
 Potholes in my lawn
 
 (Yodel-a-hee, Yodel-oh-hee, Yodel-a)
 (Yodel-a-hee, Yodel-oh-hee, Yodel-ee-hee-hee-hee)
 HATA BİLDİR
 
 
 
 
 
 
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