If it were Spring
and I killed a man,
I would change him to leaves
and hang him from a tree,

a tree in a grove
at the edge of a dune,
where small beasts came
to flee the sun.

Wind would make him
part of song,
and rain would cling
like tiny crystal worlds

upon his branch
of leaf-green skies,
and he would bear the dance
of fragile bone,

brush of wings
against his maps of arteries,
and turn up a yellow-stomached flag
to herald the touring storm.

o my victim,
ou would grow your season
as I grew mine,
under the spell of growth,

an instrument
of the blue sky,
an instrument of the sun,
a palm above the dark, splendid eyes.

What language the city will hear
because of your death,
anguish explain,
sorrow relieve.

Everywhere I see
the world waiting you,
the pens raised, walls prepared,
hands hung above the strings and keys.

And come Autumn
I will spin a net
between your height and earth
to hold your crisp parts.

In the fields and orchards
it must be turning Spring,
look at the faces
clustered around mine.

And I hear
the irrefutable argument of hunger
whispered, spoken, shouted,
but never sung.

I will kill a man this week;
before this week is gone
I will hang him to a tree,
I will see this mercy done.

Lyrics submitted by Mellow_Harsher

If It Were Spring song meanings
Add your thoughts

No Comments

sort form View by:
  • No Comments

Add your thoughts

Log in now to tell us what you think this song means.

Don’t have an account? Create an account with SongMeanings to post comments, submit lyrics, and more. It’s super easy, we promise!

Back to top