A new path is being routed here,
A direct access to town.
At the crossing I stand,
But failed to master the deserted horizons of all four directions,
And gloom ruled the day,
For as the sun dipped below the eaves,
The coppice had been felled to sparsity.
This mustn't be, This mustn't be! I churn my mind.
This road, I shall revolt and refuse to take,
Where the fresh new trees are all being felled.