Follicles mature
Develops within itself
Our daily dialect
Behold! A bin of wrecks
When gone, a tree's unphased
When gone, it shelters reason
It made sense for me to say what wasn't said
When on your way, there's a real good chance I'm on mine!
Stickers stuck to lamps
Farewell my dear creator
Pushed out of a nest
It's been an honor! Go do the rest
Branchline overgrown
The main remains pristine
Distant relatives
Fly away! You fugitives
When gone, dry skin will peel
When gone, you're made of tape
It made sense for me to say what wasn't said
When on your way, it stuns me to interlock
When on your way, you're day and night to my voice
When on your way there's a damn good chance I'm on mine!
