Branches Crowned Your Brow

Crowd rises to meet you as you climb
Then they grab your lens to bind palms of the creator
Into hands of all mankind
What did you see inside our dust
That enables you to do what you must
We are the weakest
And you the fairest
Oh, your charging up the side of every pole and strange hill
With your wild embrace of passovers destroying angel
When you found that they compelled your limbs more limber
And they cut you down into the dust that rise up timber
Oh no
They crushed out your life
You were our ticket
And I think I’m getting sick
It’s a remedy only found in that ram caught in the thicket