Tell me boy, how does it feel?
To be turned once more on fate's only wheel.
How does a maiden become the queen of death,
How does the goddess of spring rise to claw at your neck?

Burn the fruit, boy, bleed it dry
You don't want to, but promise me you'll try.
Don't dare think of her happy in the world above-
She's assured you time and time again that you're her only love.

Burn the fruit, boy, bleed it dry,
I know you don't like it, but you're going to have to try.