Beholden the golden old roads that we follow
Twined between tree trunks now rotten and hollow
In a forest we built in an age when the sages
Stood upon stilts and knew how to turn pages

But today the old books got the looks of the warring
Torn in the corners and dusty from storing.
And the language it spells isn’t known anymore
~It’s so hard to tell what the pictures are for

And beholden a time when the tune that they knew
Will pour from the twines of the forest they grew
Rung through the roots, and sung from the branchers
Hung in the fruits that they seeded with answers
To dance in a canter of caroling chorus
…as soon as we care about faring a forest

For these days it all seems
Like those crazy old dreams
Were the rantings of humans ungrown

As we race to the shelves
Just to poison ourselves
Unballing what calling our home

Beholden the olden-day molds that we hollow
To fill with a pill getting too big to swallow
Watch as we wither of wanting and wallow~
The wandered old loads of the roads that we follow