Treetor

The rest watch in fear
As you slay one of them
They stare at the downfall of a great warrior

You’re such an ingrate!
You cut off who provides shades
We saw how you slain your food Lord
With no iota of shame
Death is what they wish you

Is time not precious for you to plant tree?
When shall you have regards for the feeble?
They scream while you crush their fellow
Who burn into ashes awaiting their turn

How they wish they could flee from man
Man destroys nature when they nurture it
No shades no shield from the sun
Yet you claim to be son of the soil With no iota of shame Shame on you!

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