Frankenstein

Fears for the future
I've got a few
Like will my future
Still contain you
And I'm getting tired of this life
And I'm getting tired of being tired
You are the smell on
My old clothes
You are the wind as
It softly blows
You are a part of me
So don't be apart from me

Around this time next year
Where will you be?
Eating an apple
High in a tree
I hope to be there too
I stare right in to you
I'll be the vines that
Grow on your house
Loud as a jet plane
Timid as a mouse
I'm buried in your yard
I'm buried
I'm buried
I'm buried

You are my Frankenstein
You are my Frankenstein