Old Dead Tree
strip between the trees. i found a new value in slayer last night. nighttime fits for changing hands.
it will chop you down, like an old dead tree. this dirty old town, i try not to believe. that it
would chop me down, like an old dead tree. this dirty old town, i try so hard not to leave.
i wrote again. it sounded a lot like last time. nothing stems from nothing left. we leave
in the morning. it's tough to know not much has changed, and that we won't be coming back.