I gave away my branches,
I gave away my leaves,
you chopped me up for housing,
then ran off,
leaving me.
I gave away my dirt,
and gave away my air,
I gave away the water,
you said you'd none to spare.
I gave away my patterns,
I gave away my age,
I gave away all I had,
and you'd just take and take.
And now that I have nothing,
I sit alone, and cry
I think how I am now a stump,
and you didn't even say goodbye.