I knew the sap through my body
Like Acapulcan gold
I'm preparing myself
I don't know what's happening to me
That now I can't return
(On hearing... on hearing...)
So much leaving me through the branches
Now I go through the wounds
There was too little faith
Once a week
On hearing... on hearing...
My vegetative voice
Today I need my feet tied
In the air I know I'm nothing more than less
Of what I could be
I resist
Pushing you to another game of chance
In the air my voice's yearning reverberates
My vegetative voice
Vegetative
Vegetative love