13 Trees

I used to drive to work and feel my soul be healed.

The seasons changed, a range of colours were revealed.

The brown ground Autumn sown and Winter’s greening field.

Grain gold in Spring, the white dry stalks of Summer yield.

13 trees. For more than shade.

13 trees. For my charade.

13 trees. On parade. On parade. On parade. On parade.

On the parade.

I used to travel home a gazing at the skies.

Orange to purple fading right before my eyes.

Elation in creation, spirits on the rise.

But now the visions blurred behind these crying eyes.

13 trees. When life’s decayed.

13 trees. When I’m afraid.

13 trees. On parade. On parade. On parade. On parade.

On the parade.

I used to start the morning bright and full of rest.

And lay my head in bed at night peaceful and blessed.

But now I wake up with a weight upon my chest.

First thought is panic and the second one’s depressed.

13 trees. Left to evade.

13 trees. Left to persuade.

13 trees. On parade. On parade. On parade. On parade.

On the parade.

I used to balance heavy burdens with belief.

The wheel would turn around and generate relief.

But gears are grinding slow and joy is all too brief.

And naked nothingness just punctuates the grief.

13 trees. My troubles weighed.

13 trees. My hand grenade.

13 trees. On parade. On parade. On parade. On parade.

On the parade.

I used to pass 10 thousand trees along the road.

And never looked at them and sensed this deep forebode.

But now I speed along and carry this great load.

The woods are payment now for penance that is owed.

13 trees. Is death delayed?

13 trees. Is death displayed.

13 trees. On parade. On parade. On parade. On parade.

On the parade.