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Vundabar
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Harvest
There's nothing that's poetic about a bedsore
Stasis is damage
I cleaned the bowl of fruit I brought
It sat till it turned to food for flies
See how they dine on trials awry
But later I came over
The house smelt heavy
You said to me
I don't ever wanna be
Contest, harvest
Let me rot in the field, set the seed
I don't ever wanna be
Contest, harvest
Let the moss, let it grow over me
You brought that dog up, could you put it down?
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You found out
Too much to hear so ear gave in
Then on the following Sunday the devil rose out
But he came back
He dresses like a businessman
But you were
When you were younger
Did you find what you were offered?
I don't ever wanna be
Contest, harvest
Let me rot in the field, set the seed
I don't ever wanna be
Contest, harvest
Let me rot in the field, set the seed
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