Green elms in the woods
Give breath to mother earth
Standing tall and proud

This is my crying out.
This is my final call.
This is my desperate shout.
Before I take the fall

This is my last hurrah.
This is my do-or-die.
This is the final straw.
This is our last good-bye.

Tell me, is it worth it?
To risk it on romance?
It offers no assurance,
No, all is left to chance.

I am a creator,
a builder
a maker.

Bringing substance to the void,
brings me the greatest sense of joy.

A blank page.
A clean slate.
I draw out form,
and bring forth shape.

And I am a musician,
a lyrical magician.
The man.
The myth.
The mission.
My own unique rendition,
In every composition.
                                                                                  BUT
Can you identify my theory?
I'll be shocked if you're correct.
If this is sonic engineering,
then I'm a sonic architect.

And I am an inventor
A leader,
A dissenter,
A believer,
A protester,
A deceiver,
And a mentor,
A compatriot,
An apprentice,
A confederate,
An accomplice.

And I am a teller of stories,
of horrors, and of glories.
And I am a writer of tales,
of triumphs, and travails.

And I am a creator.
A builder.
A maker.
A musician and a writer.
Not a lover, nor a fighter,
Not a fixer,
Nor a breaker.
Not a giver,
Nor a taker.
                                                                                                  No.
I am a creator

Oh! The wicked webs we weave
When dire days demand dire deeds
As thicket thorned, and thoughtless thieves
When fire flairs and frost shall freeze

But stand ye strong, as solid stone
Thy noble name shall ever be known
Unbreakable bastion, ye bulwark broad
A formidable fortress needs not a facade

The Ultimate Weapon, A Star of Death
The Only Weakness, A Trench At It's Breadth
Thirty Rebel Ships, To Fast For Their Guns
Boldly Go Forth, To Make Their Trench Runs

I do what it takes to survive
The noblest struggle of all
And nothing brings me alive
Like the laughter I hear in your call