“baby”, said the hammock to the hanging tree
“i know it sounds strange, but you’re a lot like me
keepin’ busy people from doing things they should
leavin’ bodies swingin’ from a growing’ piece of wood”
the hanging tree said nothing
just shrugged its leaves and sighed
“baby”, crooned the hammock to the swaying noose
“you and me have both seen our fair share of abuse
put in place by somebody else without ever being asked
feelin’ bad and gettin’ sad about our daily tasks”
the hanging tree said nothing
but it groaned, real quiet like
“baby”, pawed the hammock to the deathly rope
“for quittin’ this life and movin’ on there ain’t no hope
ain’t it sad? ain’t it mean? we’ve got to do these things?
how many lives do you reckon we’ve we took from human bein’s?”
the hanging tree said “don’t speak for me
we aren’t the same at all.
I love the snap and the sickly crack
that comes at the end of the fall.”
relatively poetic 