Spirits sitting under the stairs.
A chest laid bare.
Soured over time.
Chased with lime.
And the taste lingers long.
And it goes on n’ on n’ on.
Racing, but not with your feet.
Sugar doesn’t come close to you my sweet.
Little lamb look how you’ve grown.
Now you have the freedom to roam.
Running around late night streets.
Against the heard,
You ain’t no sheep.
Little lamb out on your own.
Won’t you run home.
all rights reserved