I've got a handful of bark from this tree,
It tastes like cigars my grandma used to smoke.
And I've made a wound with my knife in this tree, and when I stick my tounge in it tastes like.
Honey.
Lemonade.
Maybe coke (maybe speed).
I've strapped myself in the canopy,
I ain't going nowhere tonight.
Me and this tree, we're like family now, alright;
When the wind shakes, we shake.
When the rain soaks, we soak.
When the sun shines, we shine.
When the axe falls, we fall.
Me? I'm gonna be the bit that goes in a wood burner.
You? You can be dressed up in tinsel and twinkling lights, with a fairy on top.
(You always wanted to be in drag)
You 'll be the Christmas Tree, for a week or three.
Then you'll be pulped,
Made into mulch,
And spread on some Notting Hill flower garden.
Ain't life just pretty.
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