Witch

You were a witch with your short hair



The weather would celebrate us both as we ran all the way home



Staked out in the oaks

In the form of little brothers from down below



The weather would celebrate us both as we ran all the way home



Tumbling down the hill

Our faces dirty with warpaint



And all off Jerusalem is sleeping in our front yard



Please be able only to see the legs in front of us



We went through the carpentry

Having stolen parts of buildings

Shouting for you to stop the songs on your knees



Are we as bandits with orange peels over our eyes?



You were a witch with your short hair



The weather would celebrate us both as we ran all the way home



Tumbling down the hill

Our faces dirty with warpaint



These are the tools that take the marrow from your bones