This is just a story of my friend The Weed
Down on the corner he has grown from seed
Breaking through the asphalt from the timeless night
He as any being came into the light
Omnipresent lying, poor Mother Land
I know I can trust him, one the only friend
Something to be sure this is not a bet
Vile sneaky slander he will never spread
Early every morning time when I should go
I was not forgetting to say him hello
And one day in Friday then I had seen that
Simple yellow flower blossomed on his head
There was sad Sunday when I came to late
And I saw the cleaner cut down him with spade
Well goodbye my trusty my best friend The Weed
Nobody and nothing on the empty street
