I took an air-rifle
shot a magpie to the ground
it died without a sound

Your skin so pale against
the fallen Autumn leaves
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 and the sweetness of decay
are the incense at the funeral procession here, today

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

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

See also:
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