At the edge of the wood
Dead meadow
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"
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