Lyric

I left the vine to climb

Past the window frame

Now it drags the sill

Calling out my name

Green hands on the wall

Needling through the cracks

I kept my shears in a drawer

And time kept coming back

I should've cut the wild

While it still knew my hand

Now every tender stem

Turns hard when I stand

Pruned too late

Still alive

Pruned too late

Still pulling light

I take the knife

To what survives

Pruned too late

But you still rise

Moss on the terracotta

Thorns in the tea tin

I touch the newest leaves

And they tremble again

I made a neat little plan

For a safer shape

But roots don't read promises

They press and they wake

I should've cut the wild

Before it learned to bend

Now every open place

Feels like the start of it again

Pruned too late

Still alive

Pruned too late

Still pulling light

I take the knife

To what survives

Pruned too late

But you still rise

I wanted a smaller you

A calmer line

But what I called restraint

Was just passing time

So I trim the reaching parts

And leave the heart

Leave the heart

Pruned too late

Still alive

Pruned too late

Still pulling light

I take the knife

To what survives

Pruned too late

But you still rise