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4miDDle - Little Bones Lyrics



4miDDle - Little Bones Lyrics




It gets so sticky down here, better butter your cue finger up
It's the start of another new year, better call the newspaper up
Two fifty for a hi-ball and buck and a half for a beer
Happy hour, happy hour, happy hour is here


The long days of Shockley are gone
So is football Kennedy style
Famous last words taken all wrong
Wind up on the very same pile
Two fifty for a decade and a buck and a half for a year
Happy hour, happy hour, happy hour is here


I can cry, beg and whine
To every rebel I find
Just to give me a line
I could use to describe


They'd say baby eat this chicken slow it's full of all them little bones
Baby eat this chicken slow, it's full of all them little bones


So regal and decadent here
Coffin cheaters dance on their graves
Music all its delicate fear
Is the only thing that don't change
Two fifty for an eyeball and a buck and a half for an ear
Happy hour, happy hour, happy hour is here


Well nothing's dead down here, it's just a little tired
Nothing is dead down here, it's just a little tired
Nothing's dead down here, it's just a little tired
Nothing is dead down here, it's just a little tired


Baby eat this chicken slow, it's full of all them little bones
Baby eat this chicken slow, it's full of all them little bones


Little bones
Full of all them little bones
Ah, little bones
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

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We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.




It gets so sticky down here, better butter your cue finger up
It's the start of another new year, better call the newspaper up
Two fifty for a hi-ball and buck and a half for a beer
Happy hour, happy hour, happy hour is here


The long days of Shockley are gone
So is football Kennedy style
Famous last words taken all wrong
Wind up on the very same pile
Two fifty for a decade and a buck and a half for a year
Happy hour, happy hour, happy hour is here


I can cry, beg and whine
To every rebel I find
Just to give me a line
I could use to describe


They'd say baby eat this chicken slow it's full of all them little bones
Baby eat this chicken slow, it's full of all them little bones


So regal and decadent here
Coffin cheaters dance on their graves
Music all its delicate fear
Is the only thing that don't change
Two fifty for an eyeball and a buck and a half for an ear
Happy hour, happy hour, happy hour is here


Well nothing's dead down here, it's just a little tired
Nothing is dead down here, it's just a little tired
Nothing's dead down here, it's just a little tired
Nothing is dead down here, it's just a little tired


Baby eat this chicken slow, it's full of all them little bones
Baby eat this chicken slow, it's full of all them little bones


Little bones
Full of all them little bones
Ah, little bones
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Gordon Downie, Gordon Sinclair, Johnny Fay, Paul Langlois, Robert Baker
Copyright: Lyrics © Peermusic Publishing

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