Down here underneath the microscope   It's hard to cope   Don't hide your face in your hands 'cause if your eyes play tricks   It's outta my control      It's gonna be   A long cold winter   The skeletons of trees   My black water child      If you don't love me, well, don't shove me out into the dark   Without a flashlight or a spark   And these stitches cling like bitches to my arms   For all my charms      It's gonna be   A crooked little winter   The skeletons of trees   My black water child      She's walking home to the devil's flowers   The broken bones, heavy hours   We stayed out late, it's a lighthouse trait   And we'll take our time, time