these pines are not the ones that i´m used to
they won´t carry me home when i cry
am i too far gone to recover
or can i turn if i try
should i trade my soul for another
should i stay and pretend that i´m happy
like so many times before

yeah these pines
are not mine
they don´t smell so sweet
like the ones in my mind
and i search the needles
´til i run out of time
but i don´t see you in these pines.

di i stumble or falter my words
when i´m saying everything is all right
i´m not one to release my depression
but these trees bring it out every night
well i don´t talk ´cos i´m trying to listen
to the wind take me home through these leaves
but it´s quiet and don´t hear nothing
cos the wind doesn´t blow through these trees