Never been to the woods until my execution
As the noose tightens, I'm tossed into nothingness
My birdie, what is she doing
By the window beside her bed?
She must be wondering what I'm doing too, then
Her mom will craft some clumsy lies, a lullaby
Supposedly for her peace of mind
My remains, I barely recognize
A busted piñata, molasses leaking left and right
The wind merrily invites
More and more four-ledgged diners to come gulp me down, 'til no flesh left behind
With the tree cradling my bones, my soul entwines
Its body pays the price
Roots stop clawing their way
Crown stripped down, evergray
Rain, once groovy beads, now its rhythm lost to me
Sun, once warm embrace, now ice cold reminder of what used to be
My birdie, what is she doing?
She could be coloring the bird drawings I left
Writing letters to encourage me to work harder overseas, then
Her mom would take her to the post office
Supposedly for her peace of mind
The woods and I, once alien, now age together
Decades to us are just like seconds
My birdie, what is she doing?
To a nice guy, she might be happily married
To her children, she might be telling stories about me, then
Her mom might chime in with some dumb inside jokes
Supposedly for her peace of mind
Flocks of birds migrating up high
Such a hurry, to find a place to reside, but not to belong
A birdie lands on me, humming a strange melody, barely a song
The trees' murmurings soon become screams and cries, all night long
As the roaring inferno envelops me, my thoughts are of birdie
Still sings to me, I wonder why
Supposedly for my peace of mind
