At night the cicadas
sing like they’re pleading
the way mushrooms would
if mushrooms could sing
the room is as dark
as the teacup is cracked
and Samantha sighs
the kettle is empty
she fills it with water
the cicadas are singing
let it be
let it be
the water will boil
she will make mushroom tea
and write a few words
the cicadas will sing
the mushrooms look worried
as if mushrooms had eyes
the teacup looks worried
because sometimes it leaks
Samantha lights candles
so the mushrooms can see
and the kettle is steaming
the cicadas are singing
the mushrooms are screaming
let it be
let it be
the room is as black
as the pot calls the kettle
the mushrooms are whiter
than mushrooms should be
the candles are weeping
Samantha is kneeling
the cicadas are pleading
let it be
let it be.