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Milt The Stilt

This song is by Carl Hauck.

You gouge the right eye of your infants

And seat them high on a cloud

To gaze at one hand of your savior

Is their ignorance what you're so proud of?

You condemn the rind of an apple

As obstructing your conscience so white

You curse every rib of that first wicked soul

But pity yourself for your providential plight

I want fruit in my garden

A tart behind my wife

I want hell below heaven

I want death with my life

Isn't the option beautiful?

You admire your children's sheltered virtue

But they haven't yet raced through the dust and the heat

Don't mistake innocence for purity

I say put them on trial, cast them out on the street

Let's watch their superior reason

Compete with new appetite

I'll gamble my chips that they'll side with the devil

This is a fascinating sight

I want fruit in my garden

A tart behind my wife

I want hell below heaven

I want death with my life

Isn't the option beautiful?

Carnal tongues flashing in a whirlwind of passion

A perpetual complacency

Coveting chattel in spite of the means

A commune in landscape so green

Thick, juicy venison, straight to the ventricles

A mind and a body so clean

Jealousy driving to injure or kill

A temper eternally serene

I want fruit in my garden

A tart behind my wife

I want hell below heaven

I want death with my life

Isn't the option beautiful?

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