four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie, we all been asleep in a beautiful lie. all the angels dance backwards and drink the devil dry, but back when he was young he knew how to touch the sky. now he’s just an old barman serving whiskey and weed, getting tipped by misery and working off good deeds. cause back in the day he almost beat the old man at his game, caught him with a question and almost made it rain. but then the old man changed the rules and the devil lost the bet. now he can’t get a drink without getting wet.