Green-leaf dawn implies 

something sweet in mind.

But it's still your fingers in my back pocket.

Makes me wonder why I sit here so tall, 

and why I run from the walls.


Critters by the litter 

come gushing out my eyes, 

like fears yet worth the fright.

So, pour me a drink, 

and I'll spill this dark ink.


I'll tell you it's all for you, 

but it ain't it's just my way of coping 

with this bleary-eyed baby girl.

Well, it's just my way of coping 

with this bleary-eyed baby girl, 

dying on my kitchen floor.


[But it ain't it's just my way of coping 

with this bleary-eyed baby girl.

Well, it's just my way of coping 

with this bleary-eyed baby girl, 

dying on my kitchen floor.]