Trees Fallen

Trees fallen to make paper
Paper used to make your money
Your vision our destruction
Worlds starving as you feast on the spoils of war

Your money your savior
Creator of distortion
Look at your new world
Our blood your ink

You waste what could save us
Our environment receding
Our rivers flow in oil
Our Homes burn

You watch the dying upon your lofty throne
As you toast apathy
This twisted tortured vision
You’re laughing while grinding bones

This cold black vanquished place
The vastness of your desecration
No light left only darkness
Trees fallen to make your money

Life lost this world is changing
Your feast still is raging
As your people starve
On your vomit served

Trees fallen to make your money
But your money won’t buy me
I’m planting the seeds of your destruction
And these trees won’t be fallen