Intro:(I want you to imagine that there’s this
dense Forest and it must be a million miles deep and there’s monsters and
goblins and wizards and shit. Every stick is like a long sword or scimitar or
wizards staff or whatever, and the mud is sometimes lava but it doesn’t burn
down the trees because… They’re magic… Or something…
And when it gets dark or mum calls you in, you have to battle off the marauding
forces with SUCH SKILL that they’ll talk of your heroic deeds in years to come!
And sometimes you’ll dance, all goofy and awkward, to songs in your head, and
it was pretty much amazing.)
Poem:
Let’s go dance in the forests… peel bark from ancient oaks and make armour
for our skin with its penchant for grazes and cuts.
Let’s be emperors again.
Build our castles from ourselves and swing from our limbs; leaping into grass
and rolling around until rashes break out like sunsets. Those endless sunsets.
Slow rainbows creeping between the trees, chasing freshly uncovered woodlice
towards must.
Let’s holiday in the things we used to be, and want, and feel, and see…
All packed full of inspiration until expiration
We were woodsmoke caught in our clothes…
We were pine,
We were sawdust…
and living for life itself.
Let’s live for life itself.
Let’s dance.
Let’s Dance!
We… barefoot pioneers of pre-trodden ground, waltz-wandering under the
airplane constellations
of our own little sovereign state of mind.
Our wilderness, where people still sparked and bubbled over.
Before we became frayed and mass produced…
All patchwork barcodes and cash-back smiles.
And before we started to whittle away at our wooden hearts.
‘Cause otherwise I swear, tomorrow I’m gonna wake up, 50 years older and
dragging empty eyes open to see a world I don’t want.
My exit wounds still sting from endless summers.
So let’s learn to live for life itself.
let’s go dance in the forests…