Merry Foreverment

Limpwristed wands of oak
with the knobs cut off

I'm lost in a fucking fog.
Oh!
They cut down all the trees out my window
Now nothing grows
And they don't show up for me no more.

Poorly twittled staffs with the knobs left on.
Limpwristed wands of oak
with the knobs rubbed off
I'm left in the throes of the magic
that came but we lost it;
We lost the steps and the moves are all wrong

Down on the grass where the tints are odd
The circular groves in the calm of the fog
in the hidden whispers of our favorite songs
Don't cut me off as I sing my favorite part.

We're running with scissors
As our heads roll along
Now nothing grows along the lake with the reeds of the palm fronds

For a world grows so dim that the light goes to a pale glow and we all just stare on