The winter of my life will be the fall of my being I can't change, God I Can't change Laboring under a misapprehension I can't change, I want to change Made a pact with my sheets Scratching through my hands When I met my spider in England Your smooth teeth and the breath that glides over them You can't change, why can't you change? It seems that our eyes were smaller than our stomachs You'll never change A cold, callous June, screaming out sand When i met your spider in England