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Number nine out of eleven little litter mates,

rotten apples all the way.

Litter mates all with different faiths,

taught them almost all I knew.

And now the best, the brightest,

number nine of eleven little litter mates,

feeling low, my ace after my home

In the bright daylight, little number nine,

dressed to kill much like me.

Takes a look at the free world behind the gate,

of the castle and this cage,

I leave the base, the night awaits,

Men are well-hidden for the litter mate.

He played it all but one (One by one)

Eleven little litter mates,

only number nine's not in sight.

Hiding for the moonlight, it's the day

Kisses burn their paper-thin wings away.

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