Graceful life by the river
doesn’t end by choice.
Some war like lightening
is more worthy.
But what is Death worth.
If life is priceless?
So the tree must fall.
By hands or by flood.
By grace or by worth.
By light or in darkness.
And when it does,
By god the world will hear.
It will be.
As it was.
Sycamore, Sycamore,
fell on thee
Sycamore, Sycamore,
hear thy plea.