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—