Men Walking Like Trees

I am a witness, a living witness Tell the Sanhedrin I have tongue for sale For all evening Through thunder, hail, and rain I have seen her dancing Like a mad woman in the streets Celebrating her invisible jubilee But did not hear her say Once I was blind but now can see I only heard the rising tumult The omnious consequence of incessant guns And children crying From behind grilled doors And did not smell ganja like days before Just an acrid smoke And a sudden lost of visibility. Will you maim again the parents worship For injured pride from prattling son? Will you deny me place of history Because only see Men walking who do move But gouged vast earth of its resources Garbling with tentacles stretching like fingers from the heart Every substance from our deepest root. I am a living witness I see them too, have known them for years Men walking like trees with deciduous cares.