The White Worm - Dead Meadow

The coming of the white worm

And how it twists and turns

In the golden apple mind

The stem that is my spine

To brush away all doubts

To rot me inside out

But I won’t feel a thing

For that’s the bliss he’ll bring

The coming of the white worm

And how it twists and turns

But I pretend to be a friend

To stab him in the end

A rustling sound

Way off in distant trees

It grew loud

Yet I felt no breeze

But all of a sudden

The leaves spun around me

And all at once

The breeze was upon me

The one that’s calling

The dancing song of praise

I come crawling

Across the mirror of my gaze