There's a dead tree connecting the earth to my heart,
And yet it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
One silver root, and four dark leaves.
A branch is at my neck,
whispering me secrets
Gently in my left ear.
My hand arches into a black widow,
Skillfully pulling the bow,
As if it’s spinning a web
Delicately crafting
A soft musical tone.
There are vines strung elegantly from trunk to my teeth
And I'll play them for you.
The rain is the beat,
It's the same as your pulse.
My blood runs cherry with every note.