"Willow" genre: Industrial
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	A little Goth -- a little Rock -- a little Industrial -- a little Pop. The start of my exorcism -- this song is for a little five-year old, who never returned.
	CD: Ganymede   Label: NMA Credits: (c) 2003 D. Byron Patterson. All Rights Reserved.
	Story Behind the Song The dark sometimes catches up with the light -- and there are repercussions. I can still hear a little boy screaming. Lyrics Willow Body's feeling like a gentle drug -- A treeroot growing in his hand I'm sitting silently until the tug And in my head, he commands He commands Broken dragon-winged electric chair Thrust like iron in my skin Doesn't bother to see me there Until his limbs begin again And again and again -- why? But can he fit inside my skin And feel the tears inside my heart? Can he sit inside my voice And scream for God to save my mind? How can he just pretend that I Would never be a burdened soul? Will no one ever hear my cries? I'm crucified in their eyes And I've died -- Why? So it plagues me like a soft disease -- Coats my eyes a mist of rain Always fighting lost and weeping trees And turning pleasure into pain

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