I cleaned off the hatchet, I had to dispatch it. Wasn’t a good digit anyway. Down from a tree on a thread that you spun, twisting the night away. Used to see a door, can’t see it no more. Was it written on leather and tied to a feather, the cream of the crop and you can’t stop. Spinning like a top, you’re the cream of the crop. It’s better than ever it’s tied to a feather. Cleaned off the hatchet, had to dispatch it. Wasn’t doing any good anyway. Down from a tree on a thread that you spun twisting the night away. Twisting the night away, and it’s better than ever. It’s better than ever you wrote it on leather you’re the cream of the crop and you can’t stop spinning. Like a top and there used to be a door, you can’t see it no more down from a tree on a thread that you spun. Spinning like a top, hour the cream of the crop. It’s better than ever you wrote it on leather