deepundergroundpoetry.com
-1
Clocks, clocks ticking, ticking.
Wondering when I'm gonna stop picking, picking.
Horse coming 'round clicking, clicking.
The wheat in his mouth he won't stop licking, licking.
He's angry at us, so that whip he won't stop gripping, gripping.
If you ask me master tripping, tripping.
Now watch when he wants lemonade, in it I'm going to be spitting, spitting. Tomorrow I swear I'm letting go; quitting, quitting.
Wondering when I'm gonna stop picking, picking.
Horse coming 'round clicking, clicking.
The wheat in his mouth he won't stop licking, licking.
He's angry at us, so that whip he won't stop gripping, gripping.
If you ask me master tripping, tripping.
Now watch when he wants lemonade, in it I'm going to be spitting, spitting. Tomorrow I swear I'm letting go; quitting, quitting.
Published 9th Feb 2015
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9th Feb 2015 5:17pm
