(Gordon)
© Who Is She? Music, BMI

Standing on the edge of a cliff
I start to slip
Don’t mind if I slide off
Now I feel my mood start to lift
I find my grip
And the screaming fades away below

I grab myself and spin me around
I start to sprint
I climb down to steadier ground
If I could bushwhack it on back to the shack
Behind those hills
I’ll find the world is finally still

Run through pale dark woods
To that sugar shack
Breathe warm steam and hide
In that old sugar shack

Boiling heat
Maple steam
Frozen snow
Then it flows
When you leave
Your maple dream
Wait ‘til spring
To go again

A mosaic of lies
I tried to arrange
In ways that shelter the blame
I thought I might have made off clear
With all of the loot
I plucked and ate all the fruit

Then I started hearing the yells
And shattering plates
Drowned out by your slithering stares
I was followed and chased
And caught and tied up by the hate
Right until I made my escape