my arboretum

on mountain tops, and i feel low, in the heart race, i'm running slow, you see the leaves shake, i see them blow, see a man fall a thousand times, to fall again, and then know why, it is spring time and i am blind, smash your fist across my face: poor me in a lonely place with a hand in a hand i don't deserve, you can feel high, while i feel low, all things holy, come, to pass us slowly, great loves, truly & only lay down to die lonely, now you see how i feel, smash your fist across my face: poor me in a lonely place with a hand in a hand i don't deserve, while your arboretum sky sings out there, inside is a blank-black wall-stare, for light, turn me to you, but you know i'm low