Cicadas, etc.

I've not forgotten how you used to pull my curly hair And compared me to your father from the comfort of your double glare Raining down on me the scraps of paper that you'd tear That used to be the songs I wrote for you that made you care We were young and you were selfish I was a broken and unwellish Not a neuron in between us And I know that you'd contest this Oh well, sorry But you see now you're a mama And I'm still dealing with the trauma That you didn't know you caused And is the reason why I blocked you I'm a ghost Making the most of the youth I've got left here Making the most of the youth I've got left here Time flies when you're fucking up under the gun And exploring all the crannies of the thunder-laden wonder-drugs Should I subtract the fun from what I've done Would the remainder be worth all your love Yeah, the pump has ceased to function 'Cause the handle broke and rusted So the well is dry and crusted And the homestead rings with nothing It's a ghost Making the most of cicadas and dumb wind Making the most of cicadas and dumb wind