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 blackwater child

If you don't love me, well, don't shove me
Out into the dark
Without a flashlight or a spark
Any stitches cling like bitches to my arms
For all my charms

It's gonna be a crooked little winter
The skeletons of trees, my blackwater child

She's walking home
To the devil's flowers
The broken bones
Of heavy hours
We stayed out late
It's a lighthouse trait
And we'll take our time