All my dreams float up,
Through the willow tree,
Only to float back down next to me,
And if you were waiting there for me,
Under the willow tree.

There's the clocks two arms,
Pointing straight at me,
Cause I'm killing time unremorsefully,
And I know it's not a bad choice for me,
Under the willow tree.

I have become the moral of the story,
They say, "Don't end up like that one",
And then plot my future for me.

So I'll stay lost in summer's teeth,
And he grinds up my bones,
To make his treats,
And you'll all pay up for a taste of me,
Under the willow tree.

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