Fill Me With Apples - The Sleepy Jackson

Fill me with apples

I am lovesick

Like columns of smoke

Your love is as strong as death

But we don’t work for this

We don’t grow 'round here

Our minds are dead

They have passed their time

I feel like cement

And the weighty tears of them show

And only pronounce loud cries

Fill their faces with farms

Make them become a pregnant man

And woman of good spirit