King Guava
Текст песни Colonel Kernel

While trees whisper the history
of the soil in which they drive their crooked claws,
I rest my eyes.
And sleep finds me but shortly dies,
replaced by a warning mumbled from the grass, then cries.
“Run!”
It eats the brush with orange teeth,
throws up black fingers,
and chokes the clouds.
While our legs can't carry us fast enough to outrun.