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You are a gnarled pear tree, |
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Near an Oak that binds your bitter roots. |
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Beneath its living branches |
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Fingers bend and ache with rotting fruit. |
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And I am sorry, sorry, sorry for my shade. |
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Uprooted to protect you. |
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Sorry, sorry, sorry for my shade. |
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What a stick figure I have made. |
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You are a bitter brother in the shadow of a twin. |
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Strangled in a warm embrace. |
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You have grown up savage, mean and thin. |
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And I am sorry, sorry, sorry for my arms. |
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I tried to protect you. |
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Sorry, sorry, sorry for my arms. |
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I have darkened all of your charms. |
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You are a jack-o-lantern, |
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Who woke up on a bitter winter morn. |
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Your skin, soft and sallow. |
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Your short season has now come and gone. |
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I am sorry, sorry, sorry the time. |
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Your ruined face, some reflection of love. |
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Sorry, sorry, sorry for the time. |
