Who knew the greatest food in the world grew Above my head each morning, and fell at my feet each night Take a bite, bite, take a bite Take a bite, bite, take a bite How come nobody told me that I should climb the trees? How come nobody told me apples were good for me? Instead I grew bitter, eating sweet clementines While inside I withered, shrinking from the rind She knew, the goddess of the apples knew what I should do She knew, the goddess of the apples knew what I should do Take a bite, bite, take a bite Take a bite, bite, take a bite At night we gathered, feeling rotten straight to our cores Screaming our grievances to the great outdoors I (bawled/balled) my frustrations right into an angry fist And I launched an apple into the darkness She knew, the goddess of the apples knew what I should do She knew, the goddess of the apples knew what I should do Take a bite, bite, take a bite Take a bite, bite, take a bite We entered her temple and we counted (all) her heavenly consorts And when the time came I declared my love through public concert But who knew that all I had to do was Take a bite, take a bite No teams and no innings, no one was keeping score No lose and no winning, but we kept coming back for more How come nobody told me that I should swing for the trees How come nobody told me she was waiting for me She knew, the goddess of the apples knew what I should do She knew, the goddess of the apples knew what I should do Take a bite, bite, take a bite Take a bite, bite, take a bite

With an intensity to rival a punk rock drummer, frantic like the last days of summer As you drift through days of endless slumber, whisper to yourself no more bummers I cannot promise you a good ending, but I can promise character development I cannot promise you you’ll learn anything, but I promise time can’t be unspent All my days run together, like a charity walk on my calendar Everyday, I put myself together, and the glue is a promise of no more bummers I cannot promise you a good ending, but I can promise character development I cannot promise you I’ve learned a damn thing, but I know time can’t be unspent Spend some time on me Spend some time on me Nothing good is ever a waste of time He said Nothing fun is ever a waste of time He said Time to spend, time to spare

Right here on this schedule it says another cudgel is to fall upon my weak and battered heart But like a hammer to a nail, this day will surely fail, to lift my spirits at all Right here on this calendar it says that I must now endure a few more rounds of only lonely nights But if a round thing has no corner, no beginning or end, I’ll just get up and turn off my own light My itinerary tells me that I’ve got many things to distract from the cold collapse of night The shyness of alarms charmed the pants off waking up interrupting my getting out of bed But like the last drink of the night, I’ll swallow dying light and my eyes will dull like minds of the undead I’ve been checking monthly menus of music meals at venues, wishing I’d discover my own name But if I got my wish I’d be not a person but a dish and my subtle taste would put pop tarts to shame My itinerary tells me that I’ve got many things to distract from the cold collapse of night My itinerary tells me that I’ve got many things to distract from the cold collapse of Nighttime’s better than you’d imagined for planning future trips, beauty pageants And pagination helps organize days, months, moments of future life Follow the order of operations, future’s coming please have some patience

I woke up to an old Danny day, my bones were wet and set to snap like a vegetable or a sarcastic slow-clap I woke up to an old Danny day, my brain was frail and set to fail like a plea for peace or a search for the Holy Grail I made a time loop out of my phone Spun a tale for two but ate it alone Made it on my own Ate it on my own I cannot promise you a good ending, but I can promise character development I cannot promise you you’ll learn anything, but I promise time can’t be unspent Like a giant awakening from slumber, No more bummers, no more bummers Like the distant cry of thunder, No more bummers, no more bummers I cannot promise you a good ending, but I can promise character development I cannot promise you you’ll learn a damn thing, but I promise time can’t be unspent Spend some time on me Spend some time on me Nothing good is ever a waste of time He said Nothing fun is ever a waste of time He said Time to spend, time to spare

First and foremost, it’s about having fun Yeah, you could say it’s about health and safety Unpicked apples grow heavy with potential Crash hard like a bomb metaphor in a bad poem about love Littering the road with potential health risks which Can only be solved by pulping apples with baseball bats Causing an even greater health risk in the form of a sticky carpet of appleguts and skin Which nature sees fit to mitigate with a clear yellow-and-black sign that reads “Don’t walk on this patch of homemade applesauce if you are allergic to bees Because you will definitely die here.” Yeah, you could say this apple is somebody’s head And then you can grow increasingly frustrated as Sport imitates life And you whiff to exhaustion While your enemy’s soft cranium Smashes against the ground like so many Babylonian babies Thanks in absolutely no part to your valiant attack on the air And if you couldn’t swing-and-miss at apples You’d pitch yourself chunks of concrete or bottles of shampoo And if I ran out of paints, I’d smudge the pigment off a Fuji Or like Superman forging diamonds, I’d pressurize Pink Ladies in my palms Until they became lumps of pencil lead Or I’d pull out my canines and carve our names in the side of a tree Before we hoist ourselves up into the canopy to shake down More apples than we could ever eat-or-beat into oblivion Yeah, you could say this is pure nostalgia A bunch of beta-males reliving their glory-nevers Remembering that beyond competition And asshole coaches And giving up Saturday morning cartoons There was a fun game and there was joy in being part of a team Yeah, you could tell the man at bat That he’s just venting his frustrations Because you can’t hit kids anymore Because you don’t get to renegotiate your place in the social hierarchy Because you don’t get paid enough for this shit or Because “there’s no gonna in pussy” But if You want to tell a frustrated man holding a stolen baseball bat That his life and his problems are banal to the point of transparency You are both a dick and a huge nutsack And you are, most assuredly, doing it wrong because First and foremost, it’s about having fun