I was floating above my bed

Like a body in a river, in a car

And the only sound in my head

Was a dying cricket in a jar

And I saw little beams of light

Come into the bedroom

From underneath the door

Oh, oh, oh, oh

And they crawled under my sheets

And they came out of every single pore

When I think about you, o-oh

When I think about you, o-oh

When I think about you

Flowers grow out of my grave, grave, grave

Grave, grave, grave

Flowers grow out of my grave

When I think about you, o-oh

When I think about you, o-oh

When I think about you

Flowers grow out of—