once upon a time there was a swing
over me there is an apple tree
one certain branch grafted by father's hand
when he was young
this is happiness i thought
grass soil smell
smell of blood all over me
this is life i thought

icy ice as ice can be
missing bees and all the trees they're used to
easter comes and all is muted
light is stiff and cold and carries me up
in a mood i think it's silence
this is loneliness i thought
where was i
eyes up closed
was i up there
this is past i think

will i travel back and forth
getting used to all these stories
written into papers that are written in my innocence
and they're wide open
this is beautiful i think
mess me up quickly now
this is a habit i think