Like a young tree life begins simple and sweet
To live was but the soothing breeze of his mother's voice
To grow was but the calm rain of his father's words
With a gentle touch from the mighty sun his day was complete
But as sure as age it's self, youthful pleasures fade with time
As he grew not a joyful sound was left to be heard
Warmth replaced by hate
Love replaced by the cold
With fear he accepted his fate
Oh how he longed for days of old
With every winter he continued to grow
His Hell made his spirit become hard
And happiness we was never again to know
But with time his wounds transformed to scars
Long he lived, holding on to the hope of a new day
But his search for winter's end never found an end
Now the only thing left of the grand old tree,
Is a broken corpse swaying in the wind.