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