Sun-kissed in a field
Weeds arise in a song
And the voice of each trespassing tree
Leaves a note, whether right or wrong
In a bittersweet harmony
Weak alone, but together they're strong
Where both fallen and upright belong
Both belong
We're all weeds crying dark-skied in spells
Standing upright and deaf to ourselves
Gathered storms are the cue to make amends
If we're ever to be sun-kissed again
Get along
Get wise
At least as wise as weeds