Maybe they are wildfires, but I know that you, are a mighty oak,
With roots extended much further than their flickering flames could choke.
They could send their smoke, but what they’ll find there’s only bark,
And you, you are far too strong to fear the keen sting of their spark.
Make them listen to you, tell them that the sky is turning grey,
That they better make it fast, for we know rain is on the way.
Maybe they’ll finally realize their mistake before they go,
That you will never fear them, for they had your forest grow.
Let them bring you down to ashes, made you crackle and burn,
For from all those destruction, even stronger you’ll return.