Fill Me with Apples
Luke Steele, Malcolm Clark
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