I wonder what this is growing?
It seems to live here
It exhibits intelligent features.
Here in my arm.
Here in my arm,
it lives still.
Under the skin
Under the skin
It travels with vine like tentacles
and slips its way
right into my skull
to eat my thoughts
to eat my thoughts
It's witchcraft, isn't it?
As they'd say
in the stained glass house
where the Christians lay
I wonder how it's doing there
There in my skull
There in my skull
It grows old
And it's been years
and I only know that it's
eating my thoughts.
eating my thoughts.
I ask again and again and again...
Bend down to reach over the bridge
And look to the water below my friend
So that you'll be grown
that you'll be grown
a specimen full
crushing me slowly
emerald green and
inside my skull
inside my skull
It eats my thoughts.
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