What do I make of the time

That I spent staring into stained window panes

Come here, come here, and sit in the shade

As the deafening thunder is followed by rain

I sit here now, just six months out from the beetles that nested into my love

I'm sick of plants, I'm sick of grass, and I'm sick to my stomach of fruit and blood

Tear it out, tear it out

This isn't what you wanted, but who cares how it turns out?

Step up, step up

And test your luck, can you pull yourself together before the countdown?

I fell down three flights of stairs

Left three rings on my neck, but who carеs?

Mr. Spring adds insult to injury, tempting me with the thing that got mе injured in the first place

I've no space in my heart for your fruit, Spring, you brute, put down the fucking orange

Put down the fucking orange

Now I sit here alone

Here on my throne, holding a flamethrower

Would it kill me to be a pyromaniac for a second or two?

Should I have to sacrifice anything to be happy?

I just want to be happy with you, with you

Tear it out, tear it out

This isn't what you wanted, but who cares how it turns out?

Step up, step up

And test your luck, can you pull yourself together before the countdown?

I know, I know

How rough it's been from the get-go

But what are you doing now?

These words, these words

I know they hurt

But nothing's stopping you from getting out

I know which sin is my own, and I'll carry it with me to the grave

In the meantime, when nobody's watching me, I can eat my fruit in the shade, in the shade