Under Birch Trees


Within this swamp land

The mist it hovers

It creates circles

Around your brothers

It lingers softly

Beneath your feet

It looms and it hovers

Along it creeps

Circling, circling


It’s lingering

Circling, circling


It’s lingering

(Ah, it draws you near/Within this atmosphere you feel no fear)

Smoke hangs in the air

And draws you near

Within this atmosphere

You feel

No fear

Under birch trees

And foggy skies

You forget that

We all die

Under birch trees (Circling, circling. Lingering, it’s lingering)

The air is clear (Circling, circling. Lingering, it’s lingering)

Except the mist that hangs (Circling, circling. Lingering, it’s lingering)

It’s always here

It’s always here

It’s always here

I wrote this song while thinking about the swamp my friends and I used to hang out in as teenagers. I’d get so many mosquito bites, but there was something pretty about all birch trees, trilliums and the mist on the water that always sparked our imagination.

This song is dedicated to them.