Blood pores from me. Green Blood.
Blood drips from you. Thin Blood.
I am, emptiness abounds.
Rodents thrive inside trunks,
But the Elephants arenít frightened.
I donít make money, dollars, cents.
Thatís just as I wish, I wish, I wish.
Trees with roots and high branches,
And I just roll by without moss.
Crimson paper locked around the tree,
And you and me, but you are free.
The tree can nearly reach the sky,
But the paper doesnít.
Your hide is thick, but your tail is short.
I am a snake, so Iím all tale.
You blow your horn along the scale.
The cows come home, but I am hiding.
Blood pours from me, there is a beating.
Blood drops from you, but what exists there?
Too different things are the rock and the tree.