I wonder if our money's worth
What we are doing to the Earth
But all that paper painted green
Is a pale spectre of a tree
The ones who gave us
Food and clothing
Shade and shelter
Hands and feet
We cut them, burn them wantonly
And fill the atmosphere with heat
And gas and dust and ash and smoke
Enough to make the creatures choke
There used to be a lot of them
The trees that gave us oxygen
Our tangled shuttles break the loom
Carbon born and carbon doomed
We'll find that trees are what we need
When we find money cannot breathe

Who would think a rose so sweet
Would dry and crumble at the feet
And blooms that scent the night and day
Would steal a heart, then fade away

With petals soft and fondly red
Sweet essence fills an addled head
Then turns to dust before the eyes
Leaving naught, but sad surprise

Who would think such thorny vine
Could lift a blossom as divine
And by the stem on which it stands
Could so wrong an offered hand

Such strength and beauty is rarely true
A blessing owned by very few
As 'neath the soil, in winters keep
There sleeps a rose to tear a cheek

Who would think that perfect bloom
Could be a bane, a curse of doom
So fine a sight, yet in disguise
A rose to ***** and blind the eyes