Young world, misunderstood
 Shooting sprees, shade from trees
 Pain will dull, will take control
 Hand turns fist, slight of violence

 When the soil softens, softly decay
 Come see my spot on your day off
 When the salts laid there, nothing will grow
 Not like him, trillium

 Not my problem, not my fault
 The sun burns out, let the sun burn out
 Not my body, not my mind
 Falling asleep, missing my stop