You think trees love you? Think again.
Oldest of all the tyrants, wood
Would crush and smash you if he could.
In time he will — the trees shall reign.
You think Earth loves us? She does not.
Nothing is what we are to her,
New parasites, a creeping burr
To itch her skin — one shake, we’re shot.
You think life loves me? Hear me cough,
Swallowing bile to catch a breath.
Life has only one lover: Death.
We must get off. We must get off!