i went walking with my friends
we were picking berries in
the biggest patch in maryland
in the spring of '87
we picked clear their spiny stems
we dragged pounds and pounds of them
to the kitchen of miss jensen and
her seven children
berry shakes for all of us
miss jensen drank berry scotch
we made jams, hot berry pies and
sticky hands and faces, oh
oh my god
nothings wrong
until the final blow comes down
i felt oh so full and fat
rested on the font door mat
when i woke three days had pa**ed
in the spring of '87
i looked for my mom and dad
found a radio we had
the newsman said don't eat the berries in
the biggest patch in maryland
oh my god
nothings wrong
until the final blow comes down
so when i see people now
i only imagine how
are they there or do i only see
what's in my poisoned memories
oh my god
nothings wrong
until the final blow comes down