Placed firmly in my hand, I hold the lone seed left to plant
Should I gift it to the world? Shall I crush it in my palm?
It’s the last thing left that matters in this desolate and forsaken land
Amongst the twisted trees and burnt fields, jealousy runs rampant
I lack the spite to hurt them; I lack the heart to help them
So I’m stuck in indecision, though I know what they deserve