I am an apple tree, covered up in your leaves 
And no one else can feel my skin 
Your head's a burning cloud, that never lets it out,
Until the desert cries your name 
But now, my hands are the words in your mouth
My fingers are the days that you count
My eyes are the love as you doubt
(…) naked as we are in the woods 
Without a (…) 
(…) Naked as we are in the woods 
Without a (…) 
This weight it feels so cursed
I hear it calling out, over everything 
And over everyone, I saw a native son
Waiting to hear my voice too
But now, my hands are the words in your mouth
My fingers are the days that you count
My eyes are the love as you doubt 
And over everyone, I saw a native son
Waiting to hear my voice too