To whom does he belong, this strangler fig? 

I have not invited him, no not i.

Well I am appalled at his tendrils and vice grip,

And that gleam he has in his eye.

To whom does he belong, this strangler fig?

You would not welcome him, no not you.

Well you not once ever knew of his arrival,

If so, you would have seen right through.

 

What good is this strangler fig?

He’s begun to climb my trunk.

What good are his green roots and panic?

Into his words and promises I have sunk. 

What good is this strangler fig? 

He now makes his way to my canopy.

What good are his efforts to dull my leaves and bleed me dry?

I remain proud, filled with vanity.

 

I swear I do not know this strangler fig.

He now seeks to strangle you too.

I swear I did not know of his true intentions,

I assure you this is true.

I swear I do not know this strangler fig.

I never intended for this in the slightest.

I swear I did not know he would choke my love,

And leave them grey and lifeless.

 

I bid farewell to this strangler fig.

He has washed his hands clean.

For he has stained my palms with your blood, 

But left my canopy green.