The Little Red Sweet

The Little Red Sweet

You were
given the
sweets

One every
day

From a
shop

Never to
pay

You were
a kid

Too small
to understand

Grow up
into a
fine lad

On a
golden chariot

All the
way to
Rome

A perfect
storm

Everythin goes
haywire

Everythin comin
back to
you

So the
urge for
the sweet

From the
same shop

Your child
weakness

Becomes your
kill

Caution: This might be all theory

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