Hanging on a limb warm from the wind
Cracking in the night just like a whip
Grown up a plastic commodity
Domestic rain will sanitize the scene

Natural inclination
Wicked, it can stack up pretty quick
The soil's got a fever

Once just letters pressed in wet cement
Ink turned them to names on a debtor's list
Just loose leaves sat shakin' in a cell
While cinder blocks, they pile all around

Natural inclination
Left to grow and now we're in the shade
The soil's got a fever