Fill me with apples 
I am lovesick
Like columns of smoke 
Your love is as strong as death 
But we don't work for this, 
We don't grow round here 
Our minds are dead 
They have passed their time 
I feel like cement 
And the weighty tears of them show 
And only pronounce loud cries 
Fill their faces with farms 
Make them become a pregnant man 
And woman of good spirit