Under this same tree

Under this same tree,

we sat young and free,

I was eight, he was three,

it was springs, we were glee

Under this same tree sit I by myself,

he is no more, now am twelve,

the blame is on no one but the devil,

he killed Scofield when he was seven

Svofield was my brother,

beside him, I had no other,

the devil was our pretty mother,

mom had bipolar disorder,

she killed him, she committed murder

Under this same tree

Digital script©2017