Tree, tree, tree, tree, tree, times one thousand,
and there’s your woods. All they can do is grow,
hold up a blowtorch, and they won’t even flinch.
Burn a tree or two, if you’re a bad person, and
the woods don’t even change their expression.
The woods don’t hear our voices. They’re busy
listening to the sun. When you’ve got stars in
your veins, you just take one decade at a time.