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Native son
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1
I am an apple tree, covered up in your leaves
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And no one else can feel my skin
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Your head's a burning cloud, that never lets it out,
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Until the desert cries your name
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But now, my hands are the words in your mouth
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My fingers are the days that you count
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My eyes are the love as you doubt
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("¦) naked as we are in the woods
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Without a ("¦)
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("¦) Naked as we are in the woods
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Without a ("¦)
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This weight it feels so cursed
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I hear it calling out, over everything
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And over everyone, I saw a native son
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waiting to hear my voice too
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But now, my hands are the words in your mouth
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My fingers are the days that you count
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My eyes are the love as you doubt
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And over everyone, I saw a native son
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Waiting to hear my voice too
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