Hollowed Hum

[Verse 1]
The phone an old root, cold against my ear,
We trace the forest of our quiet year.
No need for words, the humid silence grew,
A dappled truth, just me and you,
In the rustle of unspoken lore,
And the ancient wisdom we explore.

[Chorus]
Just the hollowed hum,
Of knowing where we're from.
A steady, ancient drum,
Where hidden root-threads run.

[Verse 2]
Through static whispers, wind-swept coast and vine,
I hear the echo of your Pataxó design.
The spaces widen, like old bark that sheds,
But sap still rises from these memory beds,
A verdant pulse that time cannot erase.

[Chorus]
Just the hollowed hum,
Of knowing where we're from.
A steady, ancient drum,
Where hidden root-threads run.

[Bridge]
We speak in moss, in shadow-filtered light,
The untold stories, holding on so tight.
A sacred stillness, like the forest floor,
Unearthing feelings we'd ignored before.

[Outro]
The line goes quiet, a slow breath drawn,
Until the next deep, verdant dawn.