I’ve held birds with broken wings
Between all my changing leaves
Keep my branches strong to hold their perch
But my roots can’t seem to quench my thirst

And the birds hate us naked trees
It’s our honesty that makes them leave
While the dark flock hovers
Wondering what would help me keep my big mouth shut

And I will always tame my mind
What hand grafts us to what vine?
While the stars quietly speak
Of mystery
Or futility
Which will keep me steady on my feet?

You have built nests from all of my bark
For too long to tell us apart
But my branches always seem to break
When I look for you inside their shapes

And the earth will never tame its mind
What foot crushed us to what wine?
While the ocean loudly speaks
Of creativity
Or vanity
But which will keep me steady on my feet?
But they say, “You ask too many questions
You start too many fires
You dream of resurrection
But you’re too scared to die”