Ents

[Verse 1] You were planted where the channels split, roots at the edge, but you angled from it. Every dry season, you leaned for the height, counting the branches against the light. You had the gift of a body that bends, feet in the mud and a map of the wind. Still, you stepped from the waterline’s reach, then asked why the thirst had learned how to speak. [Pre-Chorus] What you take in, takes shape in you; what you turn from, turns you too. [Chorus] We are ents with our arms held high, made for the ground, reaching past the sky. We can walk from the water, we can choose the dry— why do we leave what keeps us alive? Root us beside the stream; let the hard year pass. Green through the heat, with a name that lasts. [Verse 2] A leaf keeps time with a season’s small math: one path to the source, one path cut in half. The crowd says, “Go where the quick feet go,” and the roots hear the warning before we know. Not every tall thing is standing well; a crown can be lifted above its own well. So teach these legs what the roots understood: no height is a home if it’s cut from the good. [Bridge] I can move. I can turn. I can leave the riverbank. But the branch that climbs needs the ground it drinks from. [Chorus] We are ents with our arms held high, made for the ground, reaching past the sky. We can walk from the water, we can choose the dry— why do we leave what keeps us alive? Root us beside the stream; let the hard year pass. Green through the heat, with a name that lasts. [Outro] Hands toward heaven. Roots toward water. Teach the feet what the branches know.