when there's a branch hanging low, i will snap it.
and if there's a hatchet, there's a hole in the tree.
but i swing harder than i mean to, and speak louder than i should.
the force would throw my balance underground. and, when a child's in a well, there's a dog that will soon follow.
well, i don't want to be found, so i'd chuck rocks at lassie.
she'd drop down, hole in her skull, but don't worry.
she'll be found by morning when they come looking for her pitchforks in hand.
because, the only thing worse than a lost child,
is the dog that died at her hands.
