The winter of my life will be the fall of my being
I can't change, God I Can't change
Laboring under a misapprehension
I can't change, I want to change
Made a pact with my sheets
Scratching through my hands
When I met my spider in England
Your smooth teeth and the breath that glides over them
You can't change, why can't you change?
It seems that our eyes were smaller than our stomachs
You'll never change
A cold, callous June, screaming out sand
When i met your spider in England