wonderful people I see,
that like to take their ax,
and chop away at this tree,
my bark slowly cracks
away, and my wood is used for fire,
to warm up the entire,
population, it keeps them warm and relaxed,
while I am replanted for the ax,
and the fire that burns
my very soul in the black
flames, my ashes in the urn
that is the fire place,
that burns away my face,
people are so vibrant,
chopping at me in a way that's violent,
and I suffer, and die in the silent,
ways of the human being,
the most wicked thing I ever seeing,
bringing me back to murder me again,
and keep me forever in pain.
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