Our silent trees amidst the breeze
Have lost their ancient voice
Where rivers freeze the dying leaves
We hide for lack of choice
We dream of skies to hear our cries
To ward away deceit
Alas thine lies are our demise
Now thy’ll suffer our defeat
Some years gone by, the river’s dry
Thine children all grown old
They write their tears for all the years
Thee left them in the cold
And still the trees be dead in breeze
For no one seeks to know
That for the leaves to live and tease
They’ll need the fae to grow
But to this day I fear to say
Of we they have heard none
Instead they play some lands away
With lives and loaded guns
Ginger Pops 