Down here underneath the microscope
It's hard to cope
Don't hide your face in your hands 'cause if your eyes play tricks

It's outta my control
It's gonna be
A long cold winter

The skeletons of trees
My black water child
If you don't love me, well, don't shove me out into the dark

Without a flashlight or a spark
And these stitches cling like (*##$es to my arms
For all my charms

It's gonna be
A crooked little winter
The skeletons of trees

My black water child
She's walking home to the devil's flowers
The broken bones, heavy hours

We stayed out late, it's a lighthouse trait
And we'll take our time, time