There is a tree
And I water it on Fridays
It looks like a blessing
But it really has a little flaw
The green on its arbor
Is splotched with a virus
And the virus eats away
The teeth of the roots
And the roots forget their name
And the tree forgets its fame
And the world goes on around the tree
But the tree hates the scold
And it really grows cold
But the teeth of the roots
Can show their name once in the morning
On a Tuesday in a friendship of one
A world of one and anun
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