I think I will die a hermit
Catching raccoons with traps I built
In the surrounding area of my log cabin
I will skin them and make patchwork clothes
Wear death on my sleeve
And I would write
"The trees are dying today. Winter is coming. I must prepare. I must fight to survive."
And all my life I would never see another soul
And I would be happy
With my dead skin clothes
Living all alone