Roots Before Branches

How Slowly They Wither

Fear is dead but nobody knows this yet.

An empty guitar case full of cash;
Hopes brutally, wistfully dashed.
I've been on the run like a convict for far too long;
Every ounce of my humanity is absent; it's gone.
I find myself in the middle of an omnipresent desert;
An oasis of love; of all those feelings I've remembered.
And in that mirage I can see a host of never ending trees;
Like a continuous flow of what we know is eternity.
I walk into nature with my heart on the line;
Deceitfully telling myself that everything's fine.

I feel minute in the middle of such glory;
A bohemian landslide; a fluorescent story.
It's the middle of July but each leaf has an expiration date;
I can see browns, reds and yellows; for some, it's already too late.
Oh, how slowly do the tides turn.
Oh, how slowly does the sun burn.
I'd do anything to feel free again;
I'd do anything to find a beginning in this end.
Oh, how slowly does the cold shiver;
Would you look at how slowly they, and I, wither.

Tell me you love me in such a natural manner;
I'll be yours exclusively; yours forever.
I've peeled back layers upon layers of myself in the last four months;
I've given myself one almighty chance at growing up.
And that's all thanks to this world I've created;
Where clouds float on waves and creativity calms hatred.
To say goodbye is bittersweet;
Two worlds in one; embedded within me.
After all the time it took for these roots to grow;
Finding solace in open love was the sign, only I could know.
I finally know who I am:
I know who I'm going to be.
A kid enamored totally and completely by creativity.

In the storm I found the rainbow;
In the woods I found roots.
In the pages I found the ability to let go;
In the branches I found what's true.