We may not have a common tongue, but we all hate Bavmorda.
We've given her reason.
We've given her guile.
We've given her prophecy.
There's no reason to put you there.
We all hate Bavmorda
I won't be complacent when our womb spits forth a hopeful future.
The baby gets so ugly along they way and that hate is so special in every way
let's all stab you in the neck and spit upon your argument.
Hand over your tongue, that question should have never rose
we should be back to back
If I could rip your skin off you'd look just like me.
And you'll be skewered like a boar when you stare into the sunset thinking you can't trust a soul.
Those fallacies, are cherished akin to chastity though they're never given up quite as easy.
You're all pigs they scream
Kill the beast and find the baby.
No wonder it's been so easy, pigs can't stand the smell of blood.
I'll give you my head...wouldn't that be so special.
Maybe it would be better if we were not so clever and maybe we'll have better luck next time.
Don't even take a chance.
Don't even dip your feet in.
You'll just break your neck because there's nothing left.