Don’t take it personal
I’m tired of walking on human
rubbish and cold concrete,
I’d rather walk on wet grass, clean
leaving on my feet hues of green

But don’t mistaken me for a tree
Look at my dark eyes they never

If it was between the tree
and building my children a house,
then fuck that owl and little mouse
there’s plenty more trees in the forest

That’s right I didn’t stutter, though I sometimes mutter,
That’s just the way of life
The strong thrive
The weak survive.

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