Space is still the place The weight of weightless faces faces straight Our dreams are lies replaced We reach out past the trace until it's gone Sweet Madelene You don't know my name Deep as the heat I can't stay the same Red hands, suntipped pine A strange fruit left inside I will climb my way out I don't ever wanna turn around Sweet Madelene You can let go of your ghost Fruit from my lips drips on your whipping post Southern charm, bred of harm Surrender to the sound so close