Tire swing sways,
on the dead willow tree,
Hanged with a noose,
Just like me,
A widowed wife's tears,
Rain down on  my soil,
A lonely sad mother,
Makes my blood boil.
I am your kin,
Do not leave me for dead,
I'm buried beneath your feet,
But I'm waiting under your bed.

The tire swing sways,
The minutes minutely mute,
My best friend always said,
Those thoughts will **** you.