(K.J.Garside / C.Gray)
There is an anger comes off this girl,
That she can't find an origin,
The things I plant won't grow,
Yet the wild weeds flower in wind and snow.
Nothing to be nothing to prove,
Nowhere to go nothing to lose.
When will my season come,
Was I born of infertile soil,
Is my seed without song,
Can I not see the woods for these forests in my head,
Can I not see the sunlight as I play dead?
Nothing to be nothing to prove,
Nowhere to go nothing to lose.
Send "Weeds" Ringtone to your Cell 
Correct these lyrics
There is an anger comes off this girl,
That she can't find an origin,
The things I plant won't grow,
Yet the wild weeds flower in wind and snow.
Nothing to be nothing to prove,
Nowhere to go nothing to lose.
When will my season come,
Was I born of infertile soil,
Is my seed without song,
Can I not see the woods for these forests in my head,
Can I not see the sunlight as I play dead?
Nothing to be nothing to prove,
Nowhere to go nothing to lose.
Send "Weeds" Ringtone to your Cell Correct these lyrics
