The bedside book and the breeze in the branches Of the son of the tree that owns itself Clove to the root like the Babylon ruins Liquor in the glass and the piercing bluebell ♪ Emily's ear breaks a human heart With nowhere to go but the places inside The bark of the birch and the mark of the bite Beneath the leaves of the tree that owns itself And the nightshade bloodshot eyes Red as the dye from the cactus bug ♪ And the minutes fold like the time between twins Like the seed spun toward the fallow floor And the men hang their heads with the bend of the bough Of the son of the tree that owns itself And the light rushes in Soft as your skin under mosquito net