The whispering of a tree,
Bending in the harsh winds of the morning,
Tommorow isn't just a day,
It's yet another chance for the tree to break,
Don't tell it not to cry,
Don't tell me not to cry,
For the pain of being torn apart,
Nothing stills the beating of my heart,
Like the song of sobbing skys,
I know you can tell,
Tonight I'm not breathing,
There's no life in my eyes,
The morning's fast approaching,
Inevitable like waves crashing on a beach,
The sourness of the dew soaked grass,
Bringing back memories of when we sat,
Not worried,
In the bright sunlight of the day,
Children singing lullabyes to dolls,
Pictures fading in my notebook,
Of suns and flowers,
The fresh are black hearts,
And dead oceans of innocent blood,
This tree was meant to grow,
Now it's finding that it can't go further,
It's being held back by fears of getting older,
It waters itself with dark years of failure,
Never yeilding enough leaves to satisfy,
It will fall into pit of debris,
Other souls not going anywhere,
The screaming of a tree,
About to be yanked,
Roots and all from it's home,
No idea where it's to be put,
No idea how it'll survive,
Feeling lost and alone,
Unprepared to walk,
Having always been stationary,
Unprepared to live by itself,
Having always had the rain and sun to tend it,
Don't tell it not to cry,
Don't tell me not to cry,
For the pain of being torn away,
Nothing stills the beating of my heart,
Like the song of sobbing skys,
I know you can tell,
Tonight I'm not breathing,
There's no life in my eyes,
Before daybreak I will be gone from here.