They’re ripping this town apart
The backhoes are hungry it seems
And being devoid of heart
Remain unmoved when Earth screams
All of the beautiful trees
That stood by the side of the road
Are victims of impotent pleas
To machines that mangled and mowed
But things will be better they say
Once they can add some more lanes
To the highway they use to convey
The products their plotting profanes.
Are You Reading Me?
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