Above tree tops, through a wet forest,
Where the wind scrapes your knees,
Above the twigs and branches of promise,
All stacked with rumours and hearsay.

This lateral split between worlds,
Of what you need and what I want,
Black suits of truth and the white of lies,
Did you find yourself between the split?

Here I am, scraping my knees,
The parched earth slipping beneath my feet,
Run the knife through your General of doubt
And pin your needles into the map of uncertainty.

Can't you feel the revolution in the wind?
Bits of your land will stand in unison,
Red flags deep in their soil,
Will you run into the arms of thin air?

This should fade too,
Memories are but mere imprints,
This should fade too with time,
Their red flags deep in their soil.

I found your letters beneath lost ground,
I found your love for me then,
Against warred worlds it still stands,
Its red flag deep in its soil.