Lumber jack
Hypocrisy chopping at thee
Like a mad surgeon hacking away pieces of me
One by one he decides what will go
I have no say on the deprivation of me
The cleaver man with all the clutter and tea
Going around fast in a wash cycle
Keeping all he trims and fiddles in the back of me
In a box bitter and under a tree
Written in 18 languages no one will ever see
Because the lumber jack chopping it all down is free
No comments:
Post a Comment