Apple Tree

If you find yourself sitting
under an apple tree,
the biggest, most beautiful
tree you could see,
perhaps you'd feel the
constant drops,
raining down
up from the top.
If this were so,
I'd tell you the truth,
the tale of the apple tree,
that big, beautiful tree over you.

Those drops are the tears
of one crying girl,
the one crying girl
who lost her world.
Constant apathy
led to her tragedy,
the tragedy of this girl,
this girl who lost her world.
Her life revolved
around a tree,
the biggest, most beautiful
tree you could see.
She found a soul
in that tree,
that big, beautiful
apple tree.
Perfection was all that
she sought, and so she
found her tree,
her big, beautiful
apple tree.
Perfection was
all she could see
when sitting in
her apple tree.

Every day
she journeyed there,
wandering,
without a care.
She travelled to her
apple tree,
every day,
so carefree.
Until one day
her apple tree,
the biggest, most beautiful
tree you could see,
disappeared from sight.
She cried and cried
and cried all night,
she cried all day
into the night,
grieving for her apple tree,
her big, beautiful apple tree.

She hunted down
her apple tree,
chasing it
all through her dreams,
until she found her
apple tree,
sitting in a field.
She cried out to
her apple tree,
her big, beautiful
apple tree,
she cried until
she couldn't see
the rope hanging above.
For on the rope
hanging above,
on the apple tree
she loved,
on the rope
hanging above,
her body was a leaf.
A dying leaf,
a crying leaf,
her body was
only a leaf
hanging on
a rope above
the apple tree
she dearly loved.

So sit under her
apple tree,
her big, beautiful
apple tree,
sit under her
apple tree
and cry along
with dying leaves.
Sit under her
apple tree,
she's already
a dying leaf.