Life is such a fantasy,
It's plain for eyes to see,
That the real world is something strange,
Not caring or pleasing to me.
But the life of a woodlander is diffrent,
They are shelterd from the sins,
They eat what they toil,
They work for a living.
But this reality of life,
of God given breath,
Is a gift,
Many may take it for granted,
Beware though innocents,
That someday your pleasant way may go,
Lo beside the fact,
And evil will rein over those who do not make the pact.