It creeps right in
Through your gilded garden beds
As time tessellates, water babbles
Into purple, green, and red
With thorns on the outside
Arms getting torn
For the sweet sweet illusion
Of a fruit that tastes forlorn
Yeah with thorns on the outside
Whisper to you
In a stream till you ripple
From your seam
So sweet
You become fiction
When there's nothing left to see
But the brambles, oh the brambles
Flowing roots and sowing seeds
With thorns on the outside
Arms getting torn
For the sweet sweet illusion
Of a fruit that tastes forlorn
Yeah with thorns on the outside
Whisper to you
In a stream till you ripple
From your seam
Yeah with thorns on the outside
They dig into your skin
Woah, tear them from the earth
And cast them in the wind
Feel the sun and wonder why
You let their tendrils creep
And you'll find yourself again
So sweet
So sweet
So sweet