| I took an air-rifle shot a magpie to the ground | |
| And it died without a sound | |
| Your skin so pale against the fallen autumn leaves | |
| And 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 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 | |
| Oh 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 | |
| Go tell it to the trees, yeah | |
| Go tell it to the trees, yeah | |
| Go tell it to the trees, yeah | |
| Go tell it to the trees, yeah | |
| Go tell it to the trees, yeah |
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