Great oak standing, grand and stout, Redwood reaching, high, seemingly without an end. Oh, the sight grabbing, dominating with no doubt. Land ripe with aplenty, offering those in need, a masterpiece, this word painting, the bending of the creed.
Shame of the resenting, the “truth of tis of thee,” gone the rewarding, sworn oath of turned remorse. Hate the divining, wealth of the wicked, dominate thought, of those who play, over and above. Mind mental bending, forgetting who, what we were.
Grandparent churning, thought gone askew, patriot the warning, revulsion wanted, then renewed, lied of greatness returning, blindness now newly defined, acceptance flowing, the killing belonging, of those of our kind.
Great Oak rotting, grey and slack, Redwood lying, flat on its side, Land flouting, the cannibal curse of our great remorse. Always wanting, definition of retort. Innocent flaying, homes taken away, family dividing, the game of greatness, has led us astray.