I see people fall in love all the time
They carve their names into my skin with knives
I hold my breath, I have no voice of mine
People are in a hurry for their lives
Like my leaves, they rush to grow out and leave
The houses are tilting, nothing seems straight
I'm waiting to bloom like you can't believe
He who planted me is now full of hate
People change and cause me mood swings in time
Then I hear them complain about my mess.
My rings are adding up faster than time.
I never gave fruit, it's something I stress.
What do they offer that I cannot give?
I dry out but my roots forever live.