04-02-2015, 01:44 AM
Apples, apples, oh how they make me cry.
When I taste their sweet flesh, I thirst to die.
Their deep scarlet hue fills me with sorrow;
I hope to see no apples tomorrow.
I carry a torch, but no need for sight,
against apples, I continue my fight.
From eating of apples, to smoldering trees,
I carry my flame through the winter breeze.
As I find now out, my war is in vain
"Too many trees!" I succumb to my pain.
If I cannot slay them, then I must go.
Now I say goodbye to all of my woe.
When the ripened apple falls from the tree,
I see it plunging off this cliff with me.
As down down I go, to the rocky shore,
Thank God I will think of apples no more.
When I taste their sweet flesh, I thirst to die.
Their deep scarlet hue fills me with sorrow;
I hope to see no apples tomorrow.
I carry a torch, but no need for sight,
against apples, I continue my fight.
From eating of apples, to smoldering trees,
I carry my flame through the winter breeze.
As I find now out, my war is in vain
"Too many trees!" I succumb to my pain.
If I cannot slay them, then I must go.
Now I say goodbye to all of my woe.
When the ripened apple falls from the tree,
I see it plunging off this cliff with me.
As down down I go, to the rocky shore,
Thank God I will think of apples no more.