I ought not complain so much
I always find a reason
To be ungrateful for the gorgeous things
You laid inside my garden
I ought not find little things
To dance with in the ballroom
Of the madness of the inside
Of my tiny brain apartment
Isn't want a funny thing
To be alive and well in spring
It's not enough to have a 'fridgerator
Full of fruits and vegetables
I am sure there's someone worse off
Shipwrecked by the seaside
But how's a girl supposed to realize
She's actually doing just fine?
Fine
All the dеad skin that I grew in winter
Slowly peeling off like splintеrs