Holy Water who can never say you've been unforeign tot the source, holy water.

Holy Water, how you fill up each and every cup .

Holy Water, you don't come from faucets, you come from bottle manufacturers, oh yeah.

You're making the deal and disappointment shows you're up to something other than your keel at Owl and Thistle.

You're floating around, three feet in a round obscured by fallen angels, on the rain soaked ground.

Holy Water, who can never say you've been unforeign to the source.

Holy Water, water's expensive if you want it to taste good.

Water from the faucet water underneath the waves conceals the industrial brigade, oh yeah.

Tuna snarling behind the wheels of infrastructure, once forgotten, mama crumbling demise of veins and neckties.

Blatant fragrance on hold what's not hidden gets sold along the lines of pregnant peanuts Rumplestiltskin fold.