Sycamore
Upon such unnatural paths do men set course
Jacks walk the trail with axes, and their horse
They have come to rape the forest by brute force
Rested, and ready from yesterdays good night
Minds fixate on profits, hearts ignore the blight
Taking with them every last tree in their sight
Leaving a grave yard behind when they turn, and walk away
There will be no sleep lost for nature content with their pay
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