Burn Down All these places I have found Deep roots in the northern ground Only ghosts know their name They haunt the woods from where they came Warm sun Shining through the winter months Flowing streams, tree trunks With bored holes right through Tall trees once grew It's all gonna fall away One of these days Grooves, diamond shapes Colored in grey But all that bends does not break When all the grain Runs straight Life line Baskets covered in cobwebs Paddles rotting in their sheds Tall tales, soon to be Memories of the ash tree