Malachite - Lydia Ainsworth

The red car is the one

The one that goes all on its own

Just pull it back

Watch it race across the floor

I marked a black cross

With the heel of my mother’s shoe

I won’t tell a soul

Blame it on the man this afternoon

The Internet is dead

The Internet is gone

It can’t get you here

Apple blossom don’t you fear

I found a stone out on the lawn

Shining black with veins of green

On a hunt for ancient bones

Turned up something strange indeed

At 3 PM sharp

My arms will slowly rise

Best not to fight it

Here’s to coming home alive

The Internet is dead

The Internet is gone

It can’t get you here

Apple blossom don’t you fear

The Internet is dead

The Internet is gone

It can’t get you here

Apple blossom don’t you fear