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Shortenin' Bread

Cloud Cult

Mama's got a shortenin' shortenin' shortenin'
Mama's got a shortenin' shortenin' bread.

Somewhere in the deer herd the Unicorn is waking,
licking off its wounds and lifting its head.
Its horn is covered in wasps and pollen,
It's pointing the way, but it's over my head.

Mama's got a shortenin' shortenin' shortenin'
Mama's got a shortenin' shortenin' bread.