Sleepy Jackson (The)
Fill Me With Apples
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 thee weighty tears of them show and only pronounce loud cries
fill their faces with farms
make them become a pregnant man and women of good spirit
From Letras Mania