He threw a planter so hard at the wall
That the TV turned on
Later she would say it was an ordinary fall
The kind you'd see on a sitcom
Why shield her from magic
Like the neighbor's trampoline
With no sugar in her blood
And a quart of kerosene
It's the mother of all scenes
She didn't know yet just who she wasn't
And wouldn't for some time
He took advantage of her wild patience
And utter fear of crime
Why shield her from magic
Like the neighbor's trampoline
With next-to-no sugar in her blood
And a quart of kerosene
It's the mother of all scenes
Something tries to warn her through the trees
He's running from himself like he was cloaked in bees
Don't allow him the time to fake a sneeze
He threw a planter so hard at the wall
That the TV turned on
Later she would say it was an ordinary fall
The kind you'd see on a sitcom