I was floating above my bed,
Like a body in a river, in car.
And the only sound in my head
was a dying cricket in a jar.
And I saw little beams of light
come into the bedroom,
from underneath the door.
And they crawled under my sheets,
and they came out of every single pore.
When I think about you, (oh oh oh!)
When I think about you, (oh oh!)
When I think about you,
flowers grow out of my grave, grave grave!
Grave, grave, grave!
Flowers grow out of my grave!
(x2)
A strong comment here is specific: the phrase you keep hearing, the mood you come back for, or the reason this song stays in rotation.
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