these pines are not the ones that i'm used to
they won't carry me home when i cry
am i too far gone to recover
or can i turn if i try
should i trade my soul for another
should i stay and pretend that i'm happy
like so many times before
yeah these pines
are not mine
they don't smell so sweet
like the ones in my mind
and i search the needles
'til i run out of time
but i don't see you in these pines.
di i stumble or falter my words
when i'm saying everything is all right
i'm not one to release my depression
but these trees bring it out every night
well i don't talk 'cos i'm trying to listen
to the wind take me home through these leaves
but it's quiet and don't hear nothing
cos the wind doesn't blow through these trees |