My beautiful Oak stood nobly on its own
It embraced my troubled mind and all my deeds condone
And when its sickly leaves lay crushed upon the soil
They would cushion me in comfort
as Id dream there for awhile

A chainsaw massacre!!! How can this be?
Some dammed blind fool your beauty couldn't see
No passion or affection, this man knows
His love a plastic piece or chalk repose
Things without a life , like this mans heart
He looks upon and calls a work of art

At his uncultured hands, your acquittance bell did tone
To see your life all drained has chilled me to the bone
All my innocence and youth has been severed
with your mighty root
My embittered heart or so it seems
has cursed the man that killed my Oak
And all my dreams