Hawksley Workman - All the Trees Are Hers lyrics

All the trees are hers

And the bees

And the furs

Not exactly hymns

But hers.

All the skies are fine

And the beasts

With spurs

Not exactly wings

Flutters

And the nights with stars

And the cold

Shudders

Precise and orderly

Clutters

After quite some time

Who'll be who

We were

I will certainly

Trust her

When the time comes to die

When the time comes to die

We'll steal the truth in it

We'll be

The truth in it

We'll see the truth

In it

Who won't believe the truth

In it?

All the trees are hers

Tall and green

And worst

To pollinate the

Cup butter

Even apple trees

With reluctant

Worms

Can satisfy her needs

For sure

And the rhubarb burst

Through the dark rich

Earth

Makes the sweetest intermittent

Purr.

And what is fallow now

Will come to

Deserve

Poetry's most lovely

Words