I’m made of bones of the branches, the boughs, and the brow-beating lightOh, my feet are the trunks and my head is the canopy highAnd my fingers extend to the leaves and the eaves and the brightBrightest shine, it’s my shine
The Queens Rebuke / The CrossingDecemberists 

I’m made of bones of the branches, the boughs, and the brow-beating light
Oh, my feet are the trunks and my head is the canopy high
And my fingers extend to the leaves and the eaves and the bright
Brightest shine, it’s my shine

The Queens Rebuke / The Crossing
Decemberists