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]