Lyrics:
a-crackle with frost, led by the reins down shadowy backlanes. From the village still at-dream we fly, cow silhouettes and starlit molehills sailing by.
the backlane when - brung the plant Now those same old kids got a brand new flat (Guess we're grown) Tripping through the day Yeah I'm tripping through the day
Yeah Low-key Whistle I know You know I know You know Cos we low-key Brownies Shorty Saudi Seely Now she lousy Call me Backlane Audi Ghost mode Ghost mode
on my list You better hit the ground running No backlane shadow Time to fold, you get nothing
to to the blue of the ocean On the 30 westbound to the diamond water On the back-lanes down to the sea we pulled to the side of the road Danced together in
the cricket's ring. Let every sound consecrate our whispering words that Betta never heard. The backlanes tie the city down; a mess of dirty string. Winter dies
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