|
Bad apple, rotten and dried |
|
You can taste the demise in the bite. |
|
No friends, you barely begun, |
|
The worm and his army's arrived. |
|
You wished the branch that grew strong |
|
Would've helped you along in the queue. |
|
Instead, you're left on your own, |
|
Wasted and tasteless are you. |
|
Stagnant with infested regret, |
|
No longer a taste to pursue. |
|
I fell some time ago, |
|
I wasn't ready to roll and be bruised. |
|
My core's been under attack |
|
And the thing that I lacked was a shield. |
|
No fight and unable to cry |
|
'Cause my juices had dried in the field. |
|
Oh well. |
|
I land my feet in the dirt, |
|
So is this the moment for me? |
|
To take root and cast a shade in the sun, |
|
Rise like a big apple tree. |
|
Oh, well, maybe it's meant to be, |
|
Buried amongst dead leaves, |
|
'biding my time 'til the dirt takes hold of me. |
|
It was hell, but now there's a tale to tell, |
|
The sun sent a card to get well. |
|
The bad apple's broken the spell. |
|
Bad apple, rotten and dried, |
|
That's what they used to call me. |
|
Bad apple, rotten and dried. |
