To the uneducated, an A is just three sticks.
quote by A.A. Milne
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Related quotes
123
From the bowery to the brimstone
I tried to find your heart
With drugs of initiation
The bottom of a barrel that drops
I understand your causes
Sympathize the motivation
But all the details of this war
Are just self-infatuation
And its 1 2 3
Nothings for free
4 5 6
Pick up the sticks and go home
Manic blood runs thick my friend
Are you looking for a clean escape
Whats left when the locks have all been broken
Young children of authority
Now how long can you be agile
Dancing between the alter and the mercy seat
Yeah now heres a chance to make a choice
Are you aware of the fire beneath your feet
1 2 3
Nothings for free
4 5 6
Pick up the sticks and go home
The basement lies within us
Our fear comes through the door
Now theres nothing left between us
As the fear becomes a roar
Once that wheel is in motion
Dont you lose what you have found
Im talking about that burning wheel of tongues
Everything that makes it go round and round
Were all born in the devils scorn
They want to see you die
Im asking you are you true
Everything they say is a lie
Its a lie
1 2 3
Nothings for free
4 5 6
Pick up the sticks and go
1 2 3
Nothings for free
4 5 6
Pick up the sticks and go
1 2 3
(were all born)
Nothings for free
(in the devils scorn)
1 2 3
[...] Read more
song performed by Indigo Girls
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Mountain Woman
They lived together in a dirty old shack
At the edge of the black rocky mountain
And they drank mountain dew and they lived on the food
That they grew at the side of the mountain
Shes a mountain woman, hes her mountain man
They [? ] down the valley
Shes a mountain woman, hes her mountain man
Uneducated but theyre happy
Mountain woman couldnt read nor write
But she knew good from evil, she know wrong from right
When the government tried to buy her water rights
Her intuition was her only guide
Shes a mountain woman, hes her mountain man
They [? ] by the valley
Shes a mountain woman, hes her mountain man
Uneducated but theyre happy
Spend my life with my mountain woman
Were uneducated by were happy
The civil servant used compulsory purchase
To acquire the [? ] for the nation
Theyll dig up the land, theyre gonna make a dam
And build a hydroelectric power station
And now she lives on the 33rd floor
Of a man-made concrete mountain
She got an elevator and refrigerator
And an automobile to run around in
Fast talkin lawyers from the government
Went and beat proud mountain woman down
Hey mountain woman, take your mountain man
They took your land and flood your valley
Spend my life with my mountain woman
Theyre uneducated by theyre happy
song performed by Kinks
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Folly of Brown - By a General Agent
I knew a boor - a clownish card
(His only friends were pigs and cows and
The poultry of a small farmyard),
Who came into two hundred thousand.
Good fortune worked no change in BROWN,
Though she's a mighty social chymist;
He was a clown - and by a clown
I do not mean a pantomimist.
It left him quiet, calm, and cool,
Though hardly knowing what a crown was -
You can't imagine what a fool
Poor rich uneducated BROWN was!
He scouted all who wished to come
And give him monetary schooling;
And I propose to give you some
Idea of his insensate fooling.
I formed a company or two -
(Of course I don't know what the rest meant,
I formed them solely with a view
To help him to a sound investment).
Their objects were - their only cares -
To justify their Boards in showing
A handsome dividend on shares
And keep their good promoter going.
But no - the lout sticks to his brass,
Though shares at par I freely proffer:
Yet - will it be believed? - the ass
Declines, with thanks, my well-meant offer!
He adds, with bumpkin's stolid grin
(A weakly intellect denoting),
He'd rather not invest it in
A company of my promoting!
"You have two hundred 'thou' or more,"
Said I. "You'll waste it, lose it, lend it;
Come, take my furnished second floor,
I'll gladly show you how to spend it."
But will it be believed that he,
With grin upon his face of poppy,
Declined my aid, while thanking me
For what he called my "philanthroppy"?
[...] Read more
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Bonfire
stoke the fire!
sticks of prejudice
and hatred...
sticks of greed
and apathy.
sticks of profit
and loss....
sticks of capitalism,
and oil....
sticks of guns,
and patriotism.
sticks of sexual abuse
and addiction...
sticks of oppression,
and slavery....
stoke the fire!
build it up till
it's all gone....
maybe we'll find
...tomorrow..
in the ashes!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Sticks And Stones
Sticks and stones, might break my bones
And words, shall never harm me,
I was told that story, when I was a Boy
Along with the birds and bees, I believe
So I lived my life, through that advice
That was given to me in my youth,
That sticks and stones would break my bones
And words could do no harm was true.
So I stayed away from sticks and stones
And tried never calling anyone names
But the sticks still arrived, in my life
And also the words of hate and pain.
But then I had healed from broken bones
And bruises and all the nasty cuts,
It made me stronger, then I thought longer
About the words of hate and such.
Because the words of hate, I couldn't escape
As I noticed them around everyday
Destroying ones soul, until life they'd let go
Or asking GOD for vengeance as they'd pray.
Sticks and stones had broke my bones
And words of hate had really harmed me,
As I look around, I can still hear the sound
Of hate, and belittlement, and bigotry.
There are still broken bones and nasty cuts,
As I see as I enter every day with a walk,
But doctors heal then, as they are new again
But the words of hatred never balks.
In my life I have made many choices,
And I hope with one I don't stand alone
Never to ever use any word of hate
As I don't mind getting hit with sticks or stones.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Who Dares To Take This Life From Me, Knows No Better
I
An important thing in living
Is to know when to go;
He who does not know this
Has not far to go,
Though death may come and go
When you do not know.
Come, give me your hand,
Together shoulder and cheek to shoulder
We'll go, sour kana in cheeks
And in the mornings cherry sticks
To gum: the infectious chilli smiles
Over touch-me-not thorns, crushing snails
From banana leaves, past
Clawing outstretched arms of the bougainvillea
To stone the salt-bite mangoes.
Tread carefully through this durian kampong
For the ripe season has pricked many a sole.
II
la la la tham'-pong
Let's go running intermittent
To the spitting, clucking rubber fruit
And bamboo lashes through the silent graves,
Fresh sod, red mounds, knee stuck, incensing joss sticks
All night long burning, exhuming, expelling the spirit.
Let's scour, hiding behind the lowing boughs of the hibiscus
Skirting the school-green parapet thorny fields.
Let us now squawk, piercing the sultry, humid blanket
In the shrill wakeful tarzan tones,
Paddle high on.the swings
Naked thighs, testicles dry.
Let us now vanish panting on the climbing slopes
Bare breasted, steaming rolling with perspiration,
Biting with lalang burn.
Let us now go and stand under the school
Water tap, thrashing water to and fro.
Then steal through the towkay's
Barbed compound to pluck the hairy
Eyeing rambutans, blood red, parang in hand,
And caoutchouc pungent with peeling.
Now scurrying through the estate glades
Crunching, kicking autumnal rubber leavings,
Kneading, rolling milky latex balls,
Now standing to water by the corner garden post.
[...] Read more
poem by T. Wignesan
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The Football Match
I.
O wild kaleidoscopic panorama of jaculatory arms and legs.
The twisting, twining, turning, tussling, throwing, thrusting,
throttling, tugging, thumping, the tightening thews.
The tearing of tangled trousers, the jut of giant calves protuberant.
The wriggleness, the wormlike, snaky movement and life of it;
The insertion of strong men in the mud, the wallowing, the stamping with thick shoes;
The rowdyism, and élan, the slugging and scraping, the cowboy Homeric ferocity.
(Ah, well kicked, red legs! Hit her up, you muddy little hero, you!)
The bleeding noses, the shins, the knuckles abraded:
That's the way to make men! Go it, you border ruffians, I like ye.
II.
Only two sorts of men are any good, I wouldn't give a cotton hat for no other --
The Poet and the Plug Ugly. They are picturesque. O, but ain't they?
These college chaps, these bouncing fighters from M'Gill and Toronto,
Are all right. I must have a fighter, a bully, somewhat of a desperado;
Of course, I prefer them raw, uneducated, unspoiled by book rot;
I reckon these young fellows, these howling Kickapoos of the puddle, these boys,
Have been uneducated to an undemocratic and feudal-aristocratic extent;
Lord! how they can kick, though! Another man slugged there!
III.
Unnumbered festoons of pretty Canadian girls, I salute you;
Howl away, you non-playing encouragers of the kickers!
Rah, Rah, Rah, Rah, Rah, Rah, M'Gill!
Rah, Rah, Rah, Sis, Boom, Toronto! Lusty-throated give it!
O, wild, tumultuous, multitudinous shindy. Well, this is the boss;
This is worth coming twenty miles to see. Personally, I haven't had so much fun
since I was vaccinated.
I wonder if the Doctor spectates it. Here is something beyond his plesiosauri.
Pure physical glow and exultation this of abundantest muscle:
I wish John Sullivan were here.
IV.
O, the kicking, stamping, punching, the gore and the glory of battle!
Kick, kick, kick, kick, kick, kick. Will you kick!
You kickers, scoop up the mud, steam plough the field,
Fall all over yourselves, squirm out! Look at that pile-driver of a full-back there!
Run, leg it, hang on to the ball; say, you big chump, don't you kill that little chap
When you are about it.
Well, I'd like to know what a touch down is, then? Draw?
Where's your draw?
Yer lie!
poem by Anonymous Americas
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Blaqpearl
Feeding off dump sites
Government preaching about human rights
The minds hunger now difficult to fight
The authority’s pledge I’ve learnt to recite
Insanity, poverty for eternity
Your unwanted possessions
My essential obsessions
My riches, your rags
Your trash, my designer bags
Your side plate, my family’s table
My love unstable
Insanity, poverty for eternity
Ngiphephephi, where am I safe?
Not in my matchbox house
Where the sun knows not the sky
Where it is eternally nightfall
Where trees never grow tall
Insanity, poverty for eternity
You preach about ubuntu
Hold on to your zips because nginsundu
Caring is sharing
Yet you scrutinize as my skin keeps shedding
Insanity, poverty for eternity
Izingane should be seen and not heard
Yet when tears overflow you fly away with the birds
A starving nation builds my judgment of life
A life of manicures and pedicures for your wife
Insanity, poverty for eternity
My brothers, my sisters sighing, crying, dying, trying
Searching for an escape from this death coated,
Pain flavoured bitter-sweet candy on which I was deserted
Stop hearing the voices of black uneducated children
Start listening to the cries of a needy youth
That life just ain’t simple
For I am black because you are white
For I cook because you will eat
For I die so you can live
For I am because you are
Insanity, poverty for eternity
You are born into a cycle where luxury becomes a necessity
A cycle where education is a source of publicity
You get consequently knowledgeable that your heart matures before your head
When you CHOOSE to wet your pillow in bed
[...] Read more
poem by Yolanda Mbatha
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Why We Fight pt 1 (Lock and Load)
You’ve walked out the garden and watched your hands go
From picking up berries to picking up ammo
The same sticks and twigs that build up your village
Fight off the conquers and plunders and pillage//
-Stones and sticks and sticks and stones
Gather them up to protect your home
And when needed use them on some bones
Lay them all down to outline your zone
Raise them and burn them on your throne
Monsters can’t outrun the sticks and stones-
Sharpen your spears to take down your dinner
You and the beast can’t both be the winner
It’s about time you got out of this slump
Load up your brains to outsmart the hunt
poem by P.R. Prosper
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The Chronicle Of The Drum
Part I.
At Paris, hard by the Maine barriers,
Whoever will choose to repair,
Midst a dozen of wooden-legged warriors
May haply fall in with old Pierre.
On the sunshiny bench of a tavern
He sits and he prates of old wars,
And moistens his pipe of tobacco
With a drink that is named after Mars.
The beer makes his tongue run the quicker,
And as long as his tap never fails,
Thus over his favorite liquor
Old Peter will tell his old tales.
Says he, 'In my life's ninety summers
Strange changes and chances I've seen,—
So here's to all gentlemen drummers
That ever have thump'd on a skin.
'Brought up in the art military
For four generations we are;
My ancestors drumm'd for King Harry,
The Huguenot lad of Navarre.
And as each man in life has his station
According as Fortune may fix,
While Conde was waving the baton,
My grandsire was trolling the sticks.
'Ah! those were the days for commanders!
What glories my grandfather won,
Ere bigots, and lackeys, and panders
The fortunes of France had undone!
In Germany, Flanders, and Holland,—
What foeman resisted us then?
No; my grandsire was ever victorious,
My grandsire and Monsieur Turenne.
'He died: and our noble battalions
The jade fickle Fortune forsook;
And at Blenheim, in spite of our valiance,
The victory lay with Malbrook.
The news it was brought to King Louis;
Corbleu! how his Majesty swore
When he heard they had taken my grandsire:
And twelve thousand gentlemen more.
'At Namur, Ramillies, and Malplaquet
Were we posted, on plain or in trench:
Malbrook only need to attack it
[...] Read more
poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
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Nothin Song
Began this take at 7:38
Head hit the board, enough that it aches
Wonder should I be working so late
Began this take at 7:38
Head hit the board, enough that it aches
Wonder should I be working so late
Wonder should I be working so late
Began this take at 7:38
Head hit the board, enough that it aches
Wonder should I be working so late
Wonder should I be working so late
Well the nothin song sticks to your mouth
Like peanut butter on the brain (2x)
Nothin ever stays the same
Nothin, yeah nothin, nothin, nothin
Went outside to give all a break
Wearing cowhide, steak on a skate
Back inside, sam throw away your cake
Went outside to give all a break
Went outside to give all a break
Wearing cowhide, steak on a skate
Back inside, sam throw away your cake
Back inside, sam throw away your cake
Well the nothin song sticks to your mouth
Like peanut butter on the brain (2x)
Nothin ever stays the same
Nothin, yeah nothin, nothin, nothin
Gotta finish so I can awake
Feed the cat as she spreads all the waste
Snap her neck or trade in for new make
Gotta finish so I can awake
Feed the cat as she spreads all the waste
Snap her neck or trade in for new make
Snap her neck or trade in for new make
Well the nothin song sticks to your mouth
Like peanut butter on the brain (2x)
Nothin ever stays the same
Well the nothin song sticks to your mouth
song performed by Alice In Chains
Added by Lucian Velea
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Forgive
Shoot holes in me, then you watch me as I bleed
Sticks, sticks and stones, break my bones as I speak
Leave me to burn, as I melt in my pain
Watch as I drown, in the tears we have made
Chorus: cause weve got to forgive
Weve got to forget
Things are changing at last
I hope for the best
But I dont understand, Im just a man
Im still trying to see
Love, love is hate, cant seperate how it is
Deep in a grave, cant pretend, when its real
(chorus)
See a way, move away, see a way, will I ever be saved for this, will I ever be clean
Shoot holes in me, then you watch me as I bleed
Sticks, sticks and stones, break my bones as I speak
Leave me to burn, as I melt in my pain
Watch as I drown, in the tears we have made
(rpt. chorus twice)
I wish for the best, I wish for the best
Cause Ive got to forgive,
Weve got to forget.
song performed by Feeder
Added by Lucian Velea
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VII. Pompilia
I am just seventeen years and five months old,
And, if I lived one day more, three full weeks;
'T is writ so in the church's register,
Lorenzo in Lucina, all my names
At length, so many names for one poor child,
—Francesca Camilla Vittoria Angela
Pompilia Comparini,—laughable!
Also 't is writ that I was married there
Four years ago: and they will add, I hope,
When they insert my death, a word or two,—
Omitting all about the mode of death,—
This, in its place, this which one cares to know,
That I had been a mother of a son
Exactly two weeks. It will be through grace
O' the Curate, not through any claim I have;
Because the boy was born at, so baptized
Close to, the Villa, in the proper church:
A pretty church, I say no word against,
Yet stranger-like,—while this Lorenzo seems
My own particular place, I always say.
I used to wonder, when I stood scarce high
As the bed here, what the marble lion meant,
With half his body rushing from the wall,
Eating the figure of a prostrate man—
(To the right, it is, of entry by the door)
An ominous sign to one baptized like me,
Married, and to be buried there, I hope.
And they should add, to have my life complete,
He is a boy and Gaetan by name—
Gaetano, for a reason,—if the friar
Don Celestine will ask this grace for me
Of Curate Ottoboni: he it was
Baptized me: he remembers my whole life
As I do his grey hair.
All these few things
I know are true,—will you remember them?
Because time flies. The surgeon cared for me,
To count my wounds,—twenty-two dagger-wounds,
Five deadly, but I do not suffer much—
Or too much pain,—and am to die to-night.
Oh how good God is that my babe was born,
—Better than born, baptized and hid away
Before this happened, safe from being hurt!
That had been sin God could not well forgive:
He was too young to smile and save himself.
When they took two days after he was born,
My babe away from me to be baptized
And hidden awhile, for fear his foe should find,—
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Fan : A Poem. Book I.
I sing that graceful toy, whose waving play,
With gentle gales relieves the sultry day.
Not the wide fan by Persian dames display'd,
Which o'er their beauty casts a grateful shade;
Nor that long known in China's artful land,
Which, while it cools the face, fatigues the hand;
Nor shall the muse in Asian climates rove,
To seek in Indostan some spicy grove,
Where stretch'd at ease the panting lady lies,
To shun the fervour of meridian skies,
While sweating slaves catch every breeze of air,
And with wide-spreading fans refresh the fair;
No busy gnats her pleasing dreams molest,
Inflame her cheek, or ravage o'er her breast,
But artificial zephyrs round her fly,
And mitigate the fever of the sky.
Nor shall Bermudas long the muse detain,
Whose fragrant forests bloom in Waller's strain,
Where breathing sweets from every field ascend,
And the wild woods with golden apples bend;
Yet let me in some odorous shade repose,
Whilst in my verse the fair Palmetto grows:
Like the tall pine it shoots its stately head,
From the broad top depending branches spread;
No knotty limbs the taper body bears,
Hung on each bough a single leaf appears,
Which shrivell'd in its infancy remains,
Like a clos'd fan, nor stretches wide its veins,
But as the seasons in their circle run,
Opes its ribb'd surface to the nearer sun;
Beneath this shade the weary peasant lies,
Plucks the broad leaf, and bids the breezes rise.
Stay, wandering muse, nor rove in foreign climes,
To thy own native shore confine thy rhymes.
Assist, ye Nine, your loftiest notes employ,
Say what celestial skill contriv'd the toy;
Say how this instrument of love began,
And in immortal strains display the fan.
Strephon had long confest his amorous pain,
Which gay Corinna rally'd with disdain;
Sometimes in broken words he sigh'd his care,
Look'd pale, and trembled when he view'd the fair;
With bolder freedoms now the youth advanc'd,
He dress'd, he laugh'd, he sung, he rhym'd, he danc'd:
Now call'd more powerful presents to his aid,
And, to seduce the mistress, brib'd the maid;
Smooth flattery in her softer hours apply'd,
The surest charm to bind the force of pride.
[...] Read more
poem by John Gay
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Hearts Of Drums
Hearts evolve as bent sticks,
The sticks wend their ways around us.
Instead of insisting, the sticks become
My loneliness, as they track the criminals
With their glare and fighting strategy.
This ground quakes for the offered circles,
The masculine circle, aware of a gathering storm,
Wide gaps produce wide storms.
Let this misery pass, like the bread
And the eggs have parted with an arbitrary rule.
The regime of fountains continuously celebrates,
Moving aside and keeping cash
Like the very ill fountains,
Strong in wealth,
Yet again money is gold
As we strive to the gate of trumpets and drums.
poem by Naveed Akram
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News
He sticks to his guns
He take the road as it comes
It takes the shine off his shoes
Hes says its a shame
You know it may be a game
But I wont play to lose
Hes burning the grass
He take up a glass
He swallow it neat
He crosses the floor
He open the door
He take a sniff of the street
And she tell him that hes crazy
Shes saying listen baby
Im your wife
She tells him hes crazy
For gambling with his life
But he climbs on his horse
You know he feels no remorse
He just kicks it alive
His motor is fine
He take it over the line
Until hes ready to dive
And she tells him that hes crazy
Shes saying listen baby
Im your wife
Shes tell him hes crazy
For gambling with his life
He sticks to his guns
He take the road as it comes
It takes the shine off his shoes
Hes says its a shame
You know it may be a game
But I wont play to lose
He sticks to his guns
He take the road as it comes
It takes the shine off his shoes
Hes too fast to stop
He take it over the top
He make a line in the news
song performed by Dire Straits
Added by Lucian Velea
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Right Between The Eyes
Don't care what they have to say
Why you listening to them anyway
Why do you have to give them what they want?
They love to watch you as you fall apart
Stick it to them like a phoenix rise
There's nothing grander than the big surprise
They can't hurt you with their sticks and stones
About time take them right between the eyes
Seek to destroy cause they're scared of you
That's why they try to make a fool of you
They're so jealous of my pretty star
Cause you've got soul inside your shattered heart
Stick it to them like a phoenix rise
There's nothing grander than the big surprise
They can't hurt you with their sticks and stones
About time take them right between the eyes
And you've been waiting all your life
To fly high into somebody else
And it's true it's a cruel, cruel world
Life's a bitch and then you die my love
Don't care what they have to say
You shouldn't listen to them anyway
Stick it to them like a phoenix rise
There's nothing grander than the big surprise
They can't hurt you with their sticks and stones
About time take them right between the eyes
People like to build you up
Then they'll stab you in the back like that
You know it breaks my heart
Can't see you going out like that
Stay alive my love
Stay alive my love
Stay alive my love
Stay alive my love
song performed by Garbage
Added by Lucian Velea
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1976
Hey ...
Ohhhh ...
Oh, happy birthday america.
Lord knows you aint no sweet sixteen.
But, we love you cause youre beautiful america.
We still beleive in the american dream.
We better all keep remembering this land now.
This land full of people been gettin their kicks lord, lord.
I think we all better pick up the sticks.
In 1976.
God put man on this planet.
But man forgot that he was heaven sent.
Man takes the planet for granted.
I thought american people would a had more sense.
We better keep all remembering this land now.
This land full of people bent on gettin their kicks lord, lord.
I think we all better pick up the sticks.
In 1976.
Hey ...
We better keep all remembering this land now.
This land full of people bent on gettin their kicks lord, lord.
I think we all better pick up the sticks.
In 1976.
song performed by Grand Funk Railroad
Added by Lucian Velea
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Ana Ng
Make a hole with a gun perpendicular
To the name of this town in a desk-top globe
Exit wound in a foreign nation
Showing the home of the one this was written for
My apartment looks upside down from there
Water spirals the wrong way out the sink
And her voice is a backwards record
Its like a whirlpool and it never ends
Ana ng and I are getting old
And we still havent walked in the glow of each others majestic presence
Listen ana hear my words
Theyre the ones you would think I would say if there was a me for you
All alone at the 64 worlds fair
Eighty dolls yelling small girl after all
Who was at the dupont pavilion?
Why was the bench still warm? who had been there?
Or the time when the storm tangled up the wire
To the horn on the pole at the bus depot
And in the back of the edge of hearing
These are the words the voice was repeating:
Ana ng and I are getting old
And we still havent walked in the glow of each others majestic presence
Listen ana hear my words
Theyre the ones you would think I would say if there was a me for you
When I was driving once I saw this painted on a bridge:
I dont want the world, I just want your half
They dont need me here, and I know youre there (dont need me)
Where the world goes by like the humid air (world goes by)
And it sticks like a broken record
Everything sticks like a broken record
Everything sticks until it goes away (it goes home)
And the truth is, we dont know anything (dont know)
Ana ng and I are getting old
And we still havent walked in the glow of each others majestic presence
Listen ana hear my words
Theyre the ones you would think I would say if there was a me for you
Ana ng and I are getting old
And we still havent walked in the glow of each others majestic presence
Listen ana hear my words
Theyre the ones you would think I would say if there was a me for you
Ana ng and I are getting old
And we still havent walked in the glow of each others majestic presence
Listen ana hear my words
Theyre the ones you would think I would say if there was a me for you
song performed by They Might Be Giants
Added by Lucian Velea
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In The Sticks
I said hey now baby
Ain't you the girl next door
Reet petite you must not eat
Bet you know the score
Friday night don't sit at home
Lets trek up the bend
Maybe if I'm lucky I'll even steal a kiss
Maybe even hold your hand, yeah
Something about you sweetheart
Well I just can't explain
You're not like all those city girls
I don't think so anyway
And I can't seel a wink at night
Hoping my dreams come true
You're gonna be a brand new kind of girl
When I get through with you
(In the sticks is where I lay)
Hey girl, I got love
(In the sticks is what I play)
Love enough for you
CHORUS
In the sticks
Well it's you and me baby
And I ain't no coutnry hick
But me and the city we just don't mix
Dancin' on a moonbeam
When I finally caught your name
Said you had to be going soon
And I said that that's a shame
Took you down to the willow pond
Where the cat tails grow real high
And in a few brief moments
We waived our child hood goodbye
CHORUS
Just don't mix
Go!
CHORUS (2x's)
Woah
song performed by Warrant
Added by Lucian Velea
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