The grass is to my shins
And the flora gone to waste
Potted roses in tins
Wilt and leave an empty space
Daisies with no white
and berries with no blue
So meet me in the shed
So we can trim a thing or two
I'll trim you
I'll start with your vines
Brushing on your cheek
Cut away all those lines
So you can take a peek
At the pruning we'll begin
On your branches and your roots
While praying we don't sin
In emptying your boots
And chip away your bark
To see the rings inside
Count the years you stood
See the secrets you confide
I'll take your better parts
And form them to my will
Carve until i have
A sculpture for my windowsill
I'll trim you
A figurine of wood
Layin in the sun
Doing what it should
Reminding me what you done
Every other day
I'll hold it in my hands
Then put it in it's place
So I can take a stand
Then the day will come
When the frost kills the weeds
I'll empty out a drum
So we can have some heat
And I'll throw you in the fire
To finalize your end
And with the rubber tires
Your flames will rise and they will bend
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