Denigrate the woods (the woods)
The Tactician won, and you knew all along
No more planets, a brand new sun
The spectrum’s gone grey
Iridescence lost in what pokes through above
Rustling trees disturb my sleep
Exalt the hands that pulled me from within
Build a gable of mud
To preserve the pines
And heal your mind
I’ll do what they say, and allow the branches to sway
Powers that be, provide an edict for me
Wield your rotten axe
Split the crown, then
Build, build, build, build, build
I could wish for the past
Hope for isotropic confluence
But my direction must last
And I cannot misconstrue it
Powers that be, an edict like this is a dangerous decree
Surely so, but where else can you go?
Please take me home
The dampness of night
Conjoins with my dry, weathered skin
Familiar, no doubt it’s tantamount to home
But I’ll rewrite it all
And only a fool would wish for the past
We just didn’t match
Deign to this stark, hapless lunatic
He can still be of use
He may have been stretched
But is not yet obtuse