The apricot, Prunus armeniaca, is a species of Prunus, classified with the plum in the subgenus Prunus. The native range is somewhat uncertain due to its extensive prehistoric cultivation.
It is a small tree, 8–12 metres (26–39 ft) tall, with a trunk up to 40 centimetres (16 in) diameter and a dense, spreading canopy. The leaves are ovate, 5–9 centimetres (2.0–3.5 in) long and 4–8 centimetres (1.6–3.1 in) wide, with a rounded base, a pointed tip and a finely serrated margin. The flowers are 2–4.5 centimetres (0.8–1.8 in) diameter, with five white to pinkish petals; they are produced singly or in pairs in early spring before the leaves. The fruit is a drupe similar to a small peach, 1.5–2.5 centimetres (0.6–1.0 in) diameter (larger in some modern cultivars), from yellow to orange, often tinged red on the side most exposed to the sun; its surface can be smooth (botanically described as: glabrous) or velvety with very short hairs (botanically: pubescent). The flesh is usually firm and not very juicy.Its taste can range between sweet to tart. The single seed is enclosed in a hard stony shell, often called a "stone", with a grainy, smooth texture except for three ridges running down one side.
The Peculiar Purple Pieman of Porcupine Peak: Oh, I do want that pretty gazebo!
Butterfly: Mind over butter, you know.
Strawberry Shortcake: I'm just an out-of-towner.
The Peculiar Purple Pieman of Porcupine Peak: Hoisted by my own petard!
[The Purple Pieman puts a tray of kohlrabi cookies into the oven. The oven makes a gagging sound.]::The Peculiar Purple Pieman of Porcupine Peak: Everybody's a critic nowadays.
Time bomb where did it go wrong
Street fights in the city lights for you, who are you?
The uppercut from the upper class
I spilled my drink and I broke my glass for you, who are you?
You look fit but you ainÂ’t got it
Think youÂ’re a dog well youÂ’re just a bitch
I bet youÂ’d like to take me for a ride
Sing loud all you people
We're fighting in the streets
Sing loud all you people
This city’s killing me
With no money and the cupboardÂ’s bare
knew who I was and I didn't care for you, who are you?
The undercurrent of the underdog
Will wipe the floor with your suit and job you do, who are you?
You box clever like to box you hard
So what do you got without your credit card
Not a lot ‘cause what you think youÂ’ve gotÂ’s not real
Sing loud all you people
We're fighting it in the streets
Sing loud all you people
This city’s killing me
Time bomb where did it go wrong
Street fights and the city lights
For you, who are you?
The uppercut from the upper class
I spilled my drink and I broke my glass for you, who are you?
Sing loud all you people
We're fighting in the streets
Sing loud all you people
We gazed at the sun
one last time
As ashes fell down to earth
Could we see all the signs
Or did we just close our eyes
We watched the stars
just one last time
As our bodies fell
to the ground
Could we have done more
Or were we committed
Limited by greed
Well, now it's too late for our sons and daughters
Can we look upon ourselves with pride
Now it's too late for the earth to recover
Hit me right now
where it hurts
hit me hard now
Hit me right now
If you can
I can't wait for
Hit me hard now
where it hurts
hit me hard girl
Hit me right now
If you can
I can't wait for
A little more
dirty jabs
a little more
blood in the house
one more body bag
sticking in pins with no sound
Hit me hard now
where it hurts
hit me hard girl
Hit me right now
If you can
I can't wait more
A little more
dirty jabs
a little more
blood in the house
one more body bag
sticking in pins with no sound
Hit me right now
Hit me hard girl
Hit me hard now
Hit me right now
Hit me right now
If you can
Hit me hard now
A little more
dirty jabs
a little more
blood in the house
one more body bag