I like to think I'll find peace for me
resting beneath a sycamore tree.
I can't feel its roots burrow into my body,
sapping me of my strength.
No
    No
No
    No
No
Can't you see?
There is peace beneath this sycamore tree.
Look at how it shelters me
in the shade, so I can't see the sun.
No
    No
No
    No
No
What on earth are you telling me now?
This is just a simple sycamore tree
it is not acting sycophantically.
I'm not held down, it's protecting me.
No
    No
No
    No
No
It wants your death to fertilize its growth.
You're rooted to the sycophantic tree.
Just go, there is nothing here for you.
I'm corrupted, leave without me.