The very air changes,
Warmth flies away to some far, far off land,
Replaced by cold ranges,
It's a little season we all know 'bout,
I like to call it fall,
The death season that kills all plants alive,
Except for those that the devil does call,
Those evergreens come to mind as evil,
Something that doesn't die,
To me reeks of deals with unsav'ry sorts,
Planning to steal and lie.
"And why", you ask,
"Am I harshing on trees?"
They have gotten away for far too long,
Feigning nice, while causing atrocities!