Birds - The Collection

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»