Green-leaf dawn implies   something sweet in mind.  But it's still your fingers in my back pocket.  Makes me wonder why I sit here so tall,   and why I run from the walls.    Critters by the litter   come gushing out my eyes,   like fears yet worth the fright.  So, pour me a drink,   and I'll spill this dark ink.    I'll tell you it's all for you,   but it ain't it's just my way of coping   with this bleary-eyed baby girl.  Well, it's just my way of coping   with this bleary-eyed baby girl,   dying on my kitchen floor.    [But it ain't it's just my way of coping   with this bleary-eyed baby girl.  Well, it's just my way of coping   with this bleary-eyed baby girl,   dying on my kitchen floor.]