Root Systems

Born underwater in a month of fire

Born into hawthorn and tangled briar

A wild card from a hungry pack

A number on the front, a pattern on the back

Dirt in the furrows, patient and thick

Time curls at the turn of a pick

And life gathers in the wake of the plow

The line offers what the field will allow

The Root System stares down

Shoots defy and point up

Unreeling in an act of spite

Oh I had a feeling that they might

I had a feeling that they might

The Root System stares down

Shoots defy and point up

Unreeling in an act of spite

Oh I had a feeling that they might

I had a feeling that they might

Arms like Axes at a great expense

Hymns in the pastures, and penitence

The sweet glove on the agrarian hand

Caving prayers into a chaotic land

The Root System stares down

Shoots defy and point up

Unreeling in an act of spite

Oh I had a feeling that they might

I had a feeling that they might