A Winner Needs A Wand in Sufjan Stevens

Like it's killing me,
It's kidding me around.

This bite, You bit on me.
You put on me a gown.

That fits me like a quarter door
That hits me like a sound.
It's like You shut on me
Or shouldn't be around.

Like the fennel seed,
The funny gene You found.

I like the man-o-weeds,
The man-o-wars abound.

That fits me like a quarter door,
That hits me like a sound.
I might just win a war,
A matador around.

There's still nothing I can say to change
My news for You.
There's still nothing You can do to exchange
My dues to You.

Like You fit on me
To bit on me a bound.

This life that's shut on me
That shouldn't be the grounds

To emulate an epicene
To elevate a sound,
This life, a winner needs,
A winner needs a wand.

Never want to blame You,
Bound You, blame me,
Never want the blame You bound.

Never want to blame You,
Bound me, blame You,
Never want the fame You found.

And where's the same,
And where's the strong,
And where's the guard,
And where's the one who tries to make You?