I sit here, watching the animals dance They sway to the imaginary music playing in my head The animals themselves are true, but their real forms lack movement The song pitches into another song phrase, and I sit, imagining that these once live animals could come back to life Squirrels, cats, wolves, chickens, ants, all the like They used to live, but now they lay in the pitiful man-made crater in their home The trees they called their home were gone, taken by the trucks that carried them to the paper plant The grass they once frolicked on was trampled by the conveyor belt wheels of the monster who stole their home and their lives And there, sitting in the mess, are the animals, ****** and pulpy and gross Who wouldn't cringe at this sight? Who would cry their eyes out? I'll tell you who: the monsters who caused it. And they call themselves human When the path they follow leads to more destruction any author could dream up It saddens me to tell this tale, but it is necessary You are causing this, just standing there. Well, go do something!