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.]