Clear Cut

I asked your roots to grow into my flesh

To use my veins as maps

You let them dig into my skin

But your hatred drew them back

So still I stand between their bodies and I look east for Winters end

I urge the dirt to drink my blood and let the Tall Trees grow again

Young wicked boys, we danced through dust

Drunk on death and mad with song

My fading laughter showed the truth, one pair of footsteps all along

So still I sit with dying giants

Their leaves will fall by end of June