The tall majestic oak Immortal, unmoving Seeing all, seething all Loathing moves through its veins But moving shall it never know Reaching out its stranglehold Squeezing the essence from its woeful foe Which lie below Try it shall to cascade all The middle of the circle My comrade encompassed The circle I migrated to each dusk To commence plans of treason Unto the humans My comrade the oak in which I trust