February crackles within her armor
Joanie, do you envy her?
Even wrestling wildfires
She buries her heart in her footprints

Oh, oh
Joanie

Smoke humming down a log's bruised neck
The spruces they burn black but they'll sprout back up again
Would I show who I am, if I knew this world would end
Or would I snuff sparks as they catch?

Joan, your ghost, it roots from my stomach to my throat
Branches splinter through my lungs
begging me please let this grow
Oh do you not tremble at the thought
That we could both go up in smoke?

Is it the first gasp
Or final breath that hurts the most?
Is it that rise from a fiery night
To an indifferent dawns cold
To heal new skin, but be buried in the same old
Clothes?

Don't you wish God would rip from the seams?
Grip our hands, tell us what we should be
Stop these men from messing with the strings
From reducing God to a wood for burnings

Should I breathe smoke one day?
That's for Joan, that's for Joanie