I’d assumed that we’d become a fern
Basic and ancient and wild growing
But in the end it’s not worth knowing
Whether nothing ever happens
Or it happens too slow.
I’m aware that this is fucked up.
The garden is overgrown with weeds
And covered in ferns and dead tree branches.
Whatever may have happened here, it’s home.
Baby, when the winter comes, it snows.
Maybe when the winter comes the frozen roads will break.
Baby, when the winter comes.
In this moment I’ve stopped growing.
My roots are torn out and I’m blowing away.
Baby, when the winter comes
Baby, when the winter comes I’ll go.
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