Trying to square the circle of my creed, spread a little around for chicken feed, and every (any) little thing I need baby, oh. Everything that rises, all that flows, and every which way that it goes. It's tick, tock, the raindrop, and I wait for you. Like green eyes or cream pies. I won't yield. I'm tick, tock, those green locks. I can't go through. Like green eyes or cream pies. I won't yield. I won't yield. Oh, the dotted line. Oh, the dotted line. Oh, the dotted line. I won't yield.