Like a sweet rippling mountain stream. Goes the sound of the banjo on Cripple Creek. Never beginning never ending just rippling on and on. So does the land just ripple on and on.
I love that hair, long an black. Hangin down to the middle of your back. Dont cut it off, whatever you do. I need it to run my fingers through. . 'Cause youre my baby, youre my sugar.