Under the tree's shade At the edge of the wood The shadow of a shape Had me frozen where I stood The axe is already lying by The roots of the tree How many of you know what I mean when I say, "I'm Not going to be the one To pick it up and swing"
Under the tree's shade At the edge of the wood The shadow of a shape Had me frozen where I stood The axe is already lying by The roots of the tree How many of you know what I mean when I say, "I'm Not going to be the one To pick it up and swing"