A Tree Grows In Portland Lyrics

Bring forth the waves, flames, the hailstorms

Allow the rivers to fall beneath the Earth

Send the pyres to scorch the fields

Cast the hail to destroy the shields

I proclaim these demands to the northern mountains

I exclaim these theses over the cascading fountains

Let them soar above the tallest cloud

Let them fall below the buried shroud

I awake from a clamorous, sleepless rest, although

Log cabins are never known for comfort I suppose

Peeking out the window, I spot Mr. Frost laying a rock above a pile.

Though a harmless old man, he proves somewhat slightly hostile

I only know him for one phrase, and I am sure he will repeat it

They're the only words he delivers when I go out to greet him

Leaving my home I declare, "Let me give you a hand with that wall there"

He responds with a stolid but dependable nod, while looking as if he had tasted something odd

As I lift a rock I begin to say, "Is it necessary to rebuild this wall anyway?

We're respectable people who never disturb, and we rarely exchange, beyond anything, a word."

As I cease my speech, he phonetically labors,

"Mr. Robert, Good fences make good neighbors"

Before I've even the time to formulate a response, he returns to his house and falls asleep to Brahms

Turning my shoulder, I start to feel ten years older

And mulling over the current situation, I take his point into consideration

Before I go back inside, I drop the rocks, think of the encounter most unorthodox, remove my socks, and prepare for sleep earlier due to the autumnal equinox

There's rows of soldiers planted with their feet on the ground

They scream incessantly and incredibly but never make a sound

All parallel from across a line, they fight a war inside one mind

The world's death certificate has now been signed

Killing's a skill, still most don't have that ill will

You might think it's right to turn their plight into spite

But it's a condition, to join missiles' extradition

When a war breaks again, it's the end