All my dreams float upnThrough the willow treenOnly to float back down next to menAnd if you were waiting there with menUnder the willow treennThere's the clocks two handsnPointing straight at menCause I'm killing time unremorsefullynand I know it's not a bad choice for menUnder the willow treennI have become the moral of the storynThey say, don't end up like that onenAnd plot my future for mennBut I'll stay stuck in summer's teethnHe grinds up my bones to make his treatsnAnd you'll all pay up for a taste of menUnder the willow tree