Slow sickly Autumn scene on Summer days

Plowing through the province like a hellfire blaze

Vampires march through the undergrowth

And leave the trees diseased and drained

The forest is falling apart

The forest is falling apart

The Mountain Pine Beetles

Have hollowed out its heart

There's a freedom force of still-green trees

Besieged right at the apex of the mountain

Trying hard to hold their breath to keep the sickness out

But they're surrounded

In six months' time, they'll all be red

In six years' time, they'll all be dead