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lyrics

Well, oh my,
the flowers have died -
they were thirsty,
but in your eagerness to please
you flooded them.
How every street light,
in their vague manner,
tried to mock the sun
and dry them out...

but they're all burning out,
and no success...

So, you pick 'em,
dry 'em,
for your dress -
oh, the selfish, selfishness!
It's just a half-hearted guess
but
you
must
have been birthed -
birthed from a raincloud...
from a raincloud...

Oh, the oils will rise from the ground
and we'll slip while we're running home -
bringing the bouquets to our mothers.

AND OH! here comes the Great Drought,
and everybody on their stilts...
ah, get over it.
why don't you get over it.
get over it.
ah, why don't I just get over with it already alright.

credits

from Outside, the Great Drought, released February 11, 2011

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