Low ambition - Lambchop
They say you walk around
As if a ghost had crossed your path
And turned into a reading material
As it happens to be chosen
The torn or taffeta
You're frozen in the contemplation
Of a win
Ok that was maybe heavy
On the word play
But as first thoughts go they were mostly
To the right
As you register an itch
Or the things that make you sweat
To accuse the weights and measures
Of a lie
A he lie
