I Am Oak
Storm
Breathing comes from the choking of the lungs
Breathing comes with a motion of the chest
It shows us your wilderness

Roosing black lips
Rooftops splitting up

I wrote it off long
I wrote it off softly
I wrote it off slow
I wrote it of softly

Who said

My lungs are full
My tongue is tired
My teeth are gone
My eyes are soft

I am a color of my own

Roosing black lips
Rooftops splitting up