You ask me to come out of my shell
But not completely
You needed a footstool
With words you beat me
The things you said
I never asked to hear
It looks like the salad days are near
Again
So I thank you for reminding me
That the quickest way to doom
That the quickest way to tombs
Is love
And love, it drips with pent-up white blood
I helped to release it
Got rid of your headaches
But now all you need is your own hand
And her picture
Now our plane is going down
The people are screaming
Wide-eyed out the windows
I reach to hold your hand
And follow your gaze
To a blonde faceless maze
Yeah, it looks like the salad days are here
Again