I see the deaths of a thousand trees
In stacks of paper that heavenward climb
And tell the stories of things long past
That the trees have seen

Is it only I who can see their lives,
The precious lives we’ve squandered here?
Is it only I who mourn the trees
Who gave their lives unwillingly
For the sake of knowledge?
Am I the only one who hears their cries?
The whispers of the leaves remain
And speak of loss