Let the trees peep out

The Trees

I took an air-rifle, shot a magpie to the ground 

and it died without a sound

Your skin so pale against the fallen autumn leaves 

and no-one saw us but the trees.

 Yeah, the trees, those useless trees 

produce the air that I am breathing.
Yeah, the trees, those useless trees; 

they never said that you were leaving.

 I carved your name with a heart just up above 

- now swollen, distorted, unrecognisable; like our love.
The smell of leaf mould & the sweetness of decay
are the incense at the funeral procession here, today.

In the trees, those useless trees,

produce the air that I am breathing.
Yeah, the trees, those useless trees; 

they never said that you were leaving.

You try to shape the world to what you want the world to be.
Carving your name a thousand times won't bring you back to me.
Oh no, no I might as well go & tell it to the trees.
Go & tell it to the trees, yeah. 

Pulp