(Verse 1) The pines don’t whisper, child, they sing, A hymn of ghosts on silver wing. The wind just hums the melody, While shadows dance where none should be. (Pre-Chorus) Oh, tread the needles soft and slow, The roots remember all we owe. (Chorus) Whispering pines, oh, tell me true— What stole the moon and left the dew? Who walks the hollows clad in mist? Whose fingers trace the paths we’ve missed? (Verse 2) The oldest tree wears time like lace, Its bark a map, its knots a face. It croaks the names of those who strayed, And warns the debt must still be paid. (Bridge) The ravens call the hour near, The chorus swells—do you still hear? The pines don’t whisper… they *beg.* (Chorus) Whispering pines, oh, tell me true— What stole the moon and left the dew? Who walks the hollows clad in mist? Whose fingers trace the paths we’ve missed? (Outro) Sleep now, sleep beneath their bough, But do not dream. They’re listening now.
