Geographer - Native Son lyrics

I am an apple tree, covered up in your leaves And no one else can feel my skin Your head's a burning cloud, that never lets it out, Until the desert cries your name But now, my hands are the words in your mouth My fingers are the days that you count My eyes are the love as you doubt (…) naked as we are in the woods Without a (…) (…) Naked as we are in the woods Without a (…) This weight it feels so cursed I hear it calling out, over everything And over everyone, I saw a native son Waiting to hear my voice too But now, my hands are the words in your mouth My fingers are the days that you count My eyes are the love as you doubt And over everyone, I saw a native son Waiting to hear my voice too