The nigh of my high die
And I say good-bye
Why eye the pie instead
of the guy.
A lie I sigh with my cry
whereby I get no shuteye.
That brings me back to my high.
In the sky
I once again fly with the
firefly.
My supply is dry and
I can not rely to
get by.
So from my ally I buy.
In July I comply,
I will try to shy
But still I spy on the reply of
my deny
