Palpitations get worse When I talk When we talk I want even less from life I watch the trees in desperation. A short fuse is dealt to me I burn inside It's not your fault It's not my fault The trees are not to blame. Dreaming is draining Swimming against the tide Of the enemy’s only river Stripping trees Of the right to be genuine. Breathing is a burden Seeing young branches Entangled in institutions with No rescue for the fallen fruit The trees must have known For they turned to the sky for comfort. So what chapter can I add To the constitution of modernity When the stakes are so high And even the trees Are looking away? |