The Lemonade Man is Here

Murky forest glistening with sparks of sanguinity

Dragon we share the wind; freedom of mankind

Dancing with wood sprits glitter raining upon lifted faces

Footsteps in the shadows, I am afraid

The lemonade man is here

She always displays lemons in a bowl reminiscent of country French existence

Water I have

Sugar, lemons, I can’t buy from the grocery store

Don’t you understand

Heads are cushioned under Irish moss

Life can be a façade

She is a pretty princess that lives in darkness

Forest gives me hope lying under tree canopies shielding eyes from the glinting light

The lemonade man is here begging him to leave

The forest cries as diamonds fall from her eyes

Please god, help man understand

I can’t make lemonade and maybe I never will

Forest can you hear me!

Turn me into a lemon tree