I'm a pool of wax at your feet;
you knew.
I'm so far gone,
I can't even see my house anymore.
Girls aren't made of rubber bands,
and boys aren't made of flowers.
But **** it,
I'll trade you some chlorophyll and water,
if you just give me some elasticity.
I'm running out of sunshine, and
Winter's coming soon.
Embers in the bottom of the fireplace
long since burnt out,
are calling me.
I'm almost there,
I say back,
I'm almost there.