Under the tree's shade
at the edge of the wood
the shadow of a shape
had me frozen where I stood
The axe is already lying by
the roots of the tree
How many of you know what
I mean when I say, "I'm
not going to be the one
to pick it up and swing"
at the edge of the wood
the shadow of a shape
had me frozen where I stood
The axe is already lying by
the roots of the tree
How many of you know what
I mean when I say, "I'm
not going to be the one
to pick it up and swing"