Kappaleen sanat
It was a bright summer afternoon, so I thought it safe to leave the confines of my home.
I have barely been outside since the spring sun became warm enough for flowers to flourish, when insects began to scurry outdoors.
For you see, I... I carry a burden.
I am deathly afraid of bees.
Once in the past, I was attacked.
By bees.
It took years of therapy, but now... I feel I’m finally ready to have a nice picnic.
The sun was shining hot, so I packed myself a jar of jam, dusted my old beehive replica hat and headed outdoors.
“This is nice,” I thought to myself, opening my jar of jam.
But then my eyes landed on the abode of my mortal enemies: a beehive.
“Come on,” I whispered, “you can do this. You’re better than this. Stronger than this.”
My trembling ceased.
My breathing calmed.
I felt... almost relaxed.
Then, I was overcome by a sense of victory.
You played a good one, bees, but in the end, I was victorious.
I fear no longer.
But then, out of nowhere, a child runs up to the beehive, smashes it with a baseball bat and screams, “he did it!” pointing at me.
It seems bees are sentient beings, for an angry swarm emerged and, tears welling in my eyes, I whimpered “not again!” as they bolted towards me.
I screamed and I ran, holding tight on my jam, fleeing for my life, screaming “Beeattack! Beeattack! Someone save me!”
It was like a nightmarish deja vu, for I tripped and I fell.
Behind me, I could hear the bees' furious advance.
It sounded as if they were firing laser beams at me.
There was no time to escape anymore, the bees’ pursuit wasn’t ceasing.
I turned and braced myself.
Why would I have to run?
I was the being of superior intellect.
But, as I later realised, lying in my hospital bed.
It wasn’t a battle of wits, and their number of stingers full of vile, venomous pain was greatly superior to mine.
Goddamn beehive replica hat.
I have barely been outside since the spring sun became warm enough for flowers to flourish, when insects began to scurry outdoors.
For you see, I... I carry a burden.
I am deathly afraid of bees.
Once in the past, I was attacked.
By bees.
It took years of therapy, but now... I feel I’m finally ready to have a nice picnic.
The sun was shining hot, so I packed myself a jar of jam, dusted my old beehive replica hat and headed outdoors.
“This is nice,” I thought to myself, opening my jar of jam.
But then my eyes landed on the abode of my mortal enemies: a beehive.
“Come on,” I whispered, “you can do this. You’re better than this. Stronger than this.”
My trembling ceased.
My breathing calmed.
I felt... almost relaxed.
Then, I was overcome by a sense of victory.
You played a good one, bees, but in the end, I was victorious.
I fear no longer.
But then, out of nowhere, a child runs up to the beehive, smashes it with a baseball bat and screams, “he did it!” pointing at me.
It seems bees are sentient beings, for an angry swarm emerged and, tears welling in my eyes, I whimpered “not again!” as they bolted towards me.
I screamed and I ran, holding tight on my jam, fleeing for my life, screaming “Beeattack! Beeattack! Someone save me!”
It was like a nightmarish deja vu, for I tripped and I fell.
Behind me, I could hear the bees' furious advance.
It sounded as if they were firing laser beams at me.
There was no time to escape anymore, the bees’ pursuit wasn’t ceasing.
I turned and braced myself.
Why would I have to run?
I was the being of superior intellect.
But, as I later realised, lying in my hospital bed.
It wasn’t a battle of wits, and their number of stingers full of vile, venomous pain was greatly superior to mine.
Goddamn beehive replica hat.
