Mocking Tree

Mocking Tree 

Don’t fear, Don’t fear, Don’t fear, the Mocking Tree.

                                                                 Where hundreds were hanged.

                                                                And hundreds now sleep.

                                                                Forever encumbered by its gnarly roots.

                                                                  And for never capable of hurting you.

Don’t fear, Don’t fear, Don’t fear, the Mocking Tree.

                                                                Where hundreds were hanged.

                                                                  And hundreds now sleep.

                                                 So resilient people think in its quest for blood.

                                                                 Yet so tender in its quest for love.

Don’t fear, Don’t fear, Don’t fear, the Mocking Tree.

                                                                  Where hundreds were hanged.

                                                                                And hundreds now sleep.

                                                  Once succinctly beautiful with its eerie white roses.

                                                 But now stained in red with its eerie crimson roses.

Don’t fear, Don’t fear, Don’t fear, the Mocking Tree.

                                                                  Where hundreds were hanged.

                                                                  And hundreds now sleep.

                                                                Acrimonious thoughts ever so flowing.

                                                   From the people that think it death.

                                       Don’t fear, Don’t fear, Don’t fear, the Mocking Tree.

                                                                  Where hundreds were hanged.

                                                                  And hundreds now sleep.

                                 The acquiescence on the devil’s breath.

                                                To stop and rest under the tree of death.

Don’t fear, Don’t fear, Don’t fear, the Mocking Tree.

                                                                   Where hundreds were hanged

                                                                     And hundreds now sleep

                                                                    where hundreds were hanged

                                                                          and hundreds now sleep

                                                                  Where hundreds were hanged…….

                                                                     And hundreds now sleep.

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741