Upon being plucked before being ripe    I can pray my rind won't taste bitter    Red funeral, the pallbearer's grip slipped    The casket split and bled feathers    Turbulent nights when the grey really showed    He rocked her to sleep much better    Give me some children to fill the hole    I'll even supply the shovels    But don't let them grow beyond your control    They'll crack you with the handles    Adopted worm convulsing inside    Scratching the brain persuaded to buy her    You picked me from the litter, I'm your favorite    So where were you when they threw in the punches?    Tending your young, making cheap assumptions    Hatching    Now we're begging    Crying    Now we're crawling    Spreading    Now we're flying    Soaring    Now we're falling...