Mr. Willow

It's not too late

Be thugs, be saints

But don't streak your heart

In the light of day

Your points are down

Washed up again

Who needs a fork

When the plate is your hands?

You were not second best

But not yet a queen

You picture yourself as you seem

Ah, you don't have to blame Mr. Willow, oh, oh

Ah, you're the umbrella inside this riddle, oh

You're wrestling

With all your bones

But love is not hopstotch to live like a stone

Your soul's your world

Your mind your house

Expect nothing less than what you put out

You won't rip the circus off

They'll bench your esteem

You picture yourself as you seem

Ah, you don't have to blame Mr. Willow, oh, oh

Ah, you're the umbrella inside this riddle, oh

You let the rain follow you back down the stairs

You have the choice to count up your layers

Ah, you don't have to blame Mr. Willow, oh, oh

Ah, you're the umbrella inside this riddle, oh

Ah, you don't have to blame Mr. Willow, oh, oh

Ah, you're the umbrella inside this riddle, oh