the host is the land, growing trees abreast
It bears the name wild.. the wild Wild West
always; will be known, as a state of no rest
They are passers by claiming the right
then; will not give up without a fight
grasping at soil, the bramble and hope
until comes an age, where they cannot cope
They will see, it’s wild with men
who seem fixated of where and when
cut each one down, in power and strength
they will not stop til’, it’s ran it’s length
Scourge of the land, the given host
kill all the creatures, though not the ghosts
a new world will reclaim, what once was free
new peace, new beasts, oh!; those blossoming trees.
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