Seven eighths
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Seven eighths halfway there
Sticks and stones through the broken windows
Like maçã, apple pie left for a week
Toss it in and hope it swims
But it’s the things at the bottom you need to worry about
If you sink they lurk down there
Tangle around your legs and hold you down.
So jump on in
Seven eighths, four mais to go
One maçã, apple is rotten, so throw the whole barrel out
Seven eggs gives nineteen chickens
But only if they’re in the bushes
Last in line, theres nothing left
All sold out, waited too long
Next time, push in and get your serve
Like the others did to you...
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