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fill me with apples
i am lovesick
like columns of smoke
your love is as strong as death
but we don't work for this
we don't grow round here
our minds are dead
they have passed their time
i feel like cement
and thee weighty tears of them
show and only pronounce loud cries
fill their faces with farms
make them become a pregnant man
and women of good spirit
fill me with apples    i am lovesick   like columns of smoke    your love is as strong as death   but we don't work for this   we don't grow round here   our minds are dead    they have passed their time    i feel like cement   and thee weighty tears of them    show and only pronounce loud cries   fill their faces with farms   make them become a pregnant man    and women of good spirit