If I turn you from good, strong soil, into a muddy river
I’ve given you every part of me just to fill your roots
When there’s nothing left of what was once the Atlantic
That seeped on shore to soak Pacific fruits  
I’d still want to climb you, Chestnut Tree
So I won’t cut you down,
Because I can’t set you free
And though I yearn for the Atlantic
I still find I’ll have to know where to exist in every part of the sea
Your bark must be moistened
limber, and alive
Nothing may swim
So the squirrels can survive
But i can’t give you all of me, Chestnut Tree
I can’t give you all of me