If you were a tree
You would need to drop your dead leaves
They're just too much to bear
Burdens too vast to wear
If you were a bee
We could overthrow your queen
I know nothing seems too fair
And no one seems to care
Inhale the dust from the ceiling
Just so you know the feeling
Look up to the haunting skies
As if they'll hear your cries
If you were set free
Who knows what you could be
Chop the dead ends off your hair
Open windows, cleanse the air
Angle the flattened rooftops
And empty your pockets
Cry it out on the porch
Wake up and go to church
Angle the flattened rooftops
And empty your pockets
Cry it out on the porch
Wake up and go to church