These heavy hands pin me down
with all the nails that I've carved out.
There's glowing eyes inside of all the trees,
and they all see me.
These heavy eyes drag me down
from all the things they've figured out.
There's burning leaves that's covering the ground
and they all surround me.
I'm burning now.
This heavy head weighs me down
from all the thorns on my crown.
It pierces through my skin into the bone.
I am not alone.
Sticks and stones will break my bones,
but the words, I'll never feel them.
Been burning down the forest so
the birds can never steal again.
It's no surprise that I'm half-alive,
but my apple-eyes have gone and died.
So, I lay still in defeat.
Exhausted in misology.
If the forest goes, I die with the trees.

INVIA LE CORREZIONI