I prune trees until they bleed, Cut until I look well achieved I braid a mask of leaves Fight to find the balance in between The expectations and conditions, Melt two blades into one There is line, a mark where mist turns to clouds When I find it I'll place a cut, split my spine in half There is a hook on which a rope to me is tied When I find it I'll cut myself loose. For seven years in spheres of glass, aiming reflections in to dust, we've emptied our trust Will a kid dare to trust his visions if no one tells him that he can, undrape jewels in his eyes. There is line, a mark where mist turns to clouds When I find it I'll place a cut, split my spine in half There is a hook on which a rope to me is tied When I find it I'll cut myself loose We're cold, lone and deceitful to our kind, Estranged wild dogs left behind, hunting reflections of the sun. I Prune trees until they bleed, Cut until I look well achieved I braid a mask of leaves