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
