It was neat, that gin mighty
On the bottle of rye
And then I feared the raspberry seed
How can this be?
That I'd fear the ones who would hold me
Then insight fires under those who'll never chase me
I will recognise
One of these late nights
All I've left behind
It was neat, bit the hand that feeds
he slipped away, without thought of the bleed
How can this be?
that I'd fear the ones who would hold me
Then insight fires under those who'll never chase me
I will recognise
One of these late nights
All I've left behind.
[Instrumental]