Lost in the turnip-red depths of despair
I am depressed, like a wet cat on a stair
as lonesome as a single spot on a chair
as sad as that bald patch in your hair.
I have no time to think, only to cry
If only I could fly away like a horsefly
I would flutter and butter like a pretty butterfly
But all the time, I would still be crying inside.
You will never know, you won't understand
Maybe if you were here, we could just hold hands
But since you're too busy, I'll keep sinking in the sand
Of my only home, the land of the damned.